OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

A  NOVEL 


BY 


ELIZABETH  HOLBROOK 


Kaskaskia:  Jesuit  mission,  founded  1680-86.  Under 
British  rule,  1763.  A  county  of  Virginia,  1778. 
Northwestern  Territory,  1787.  Territory  of  Indi- 
ana, 1802.  Territory  of  Illinois,  1809.  State  of 
Illinois,  1818. 


CHICAGO: 

THE  SCHULTE   PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 
1893. 


Copyright, 
by  ELIZABETH  HOLBROOK. 


DEDICATION. 


To   The  Illinois    Woman's    Exposition^    Board. 

A  thought  that  had  lain  dormant  for  years  was 
called  into  activity  when  one  of  your  number,  Frances 
Welles  Shepard,  came  to  us  and  organized  our  county. 
In  the  development  of  the  Colonial  exhibit  from  Old 
Kaskaskia,  a  study  of  the  rich  field  of  village  tradition 
and  history  caused  this  thought  to  take  the  form  of  the 
present  work,  which  is  respectfully  inscribed  to  you  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 


2062016 


PREFACE. 

"THE  village  of  Notre  Dame  de  Cascasquias  is  by  far  the 
most  considerable  settlement  in  the  country  of  the  Illinois,  as 
well  from  the  number  of  its  inhabitants  as  from  its  advanta- 
geous situation." — Capt.  Pitman  in  1766. 

WILL  the  general  reader  pause  for  a  moment 
and  give  attention  to  a  tale  whose  scenes  are 
located  in  and  around  the  village  which  was  a 
hundred  years  old  when  the  above  description 
was  written? 

When  the  question  as  to  the  Northwest  Terri- 
tory was  agitating  the  eastern  coast,  a  fair  blos- 
som from  a  seed  of  civilization  dropped  in  the 
wilderness  long  years  before  was  being  nurtured, 
its  roots  drawing  sustenance  along  the  lines  of 
connection  sent  out  to  France,  to  Canada,  to 
New  Orleans,  and  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
But  the  fair  blossom  has  passed  away;  the 
fruit  it  bore  has  been  harvested. 

It  is  with  sadness  that  we  hear  the  cry  from 
the  handful  of  inhabitants  left  in  the  village: 

"Old  'Kaskia  is   doomed."     The  hungry  rivers 

5 


6  PREFACE 

are  eating  the  soil  that  has  been  pressed  by  the 
feet  of  the  red  man,  by  the  Jesuit  missionaries, 
the  commandants  of  the  French  forts,  by  the 
"Long  Knife"  Virginians,  by  the  brave-hearted 
pioneers  who  pushed  the  frontier  beyond  them, 
by  noblet  and  disinterested  statesmen,  by  the 
patriotic  Lafayette. 

Not  alone  to  the  people  of  Illinois  should  this 
spot  be  of  vital  interest,  for  along  the  ancient 
trails  leading  to  this  center  great  cities  have 
arisen,  and  thousands  of  homes  established, 
throughout  other  commonwealths. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


i.  PAMSII  RECORDS.  2.  CIIAI.ICR  AND  PATEN  PRESENTED  TO  THE  CHURCH  BY  THE  KING  OK 
FRANCE.  3.  TABLE  ON  WHICH  WAS  WRITTEN  THE  FIRST  CONSTITUTION  OK  ILLINOIS. 
4.  SIGNATURE  OF  COL.  GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE  IN  1778. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  OUTLOOK. 

"STAY,  Marie,  let  us  rest  here."  And  the  young 
speaker  sank  languidly  into  a  not  ungraceful 
position  at  the  base  of  an  old  tree.  The  flushed 
face  and  the  basket  of  large  white  blossoms  of 
the  dogwood  showed  that  some  exertion  had  been 
put  forth  on  this  mild  April  evening. 

Marie  assented  by  dexterously  vaulting  into  a 
swing  of  the  wild  grape-vine,  that  hung  a  little 
high,  but  her  weight  brought  it  within  a  com- 
fortable distance  of  the  ground. 

"Not  for  long,  ma  belle  cousine"  she  an- 
swered, gayly,  as  her  supple  form  swayed  back 
and  forth  under  the  green  boughs.  "The  good 
papa  will  start  Risden  in  our  search ;  think  you 
not  so,  cousine?" 

But  the   large,  dark   eyes   of    her    companion 

were  fixed  absently  on  the  prospect  before  her. 

7 


8  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

The  sun's  soft  rays  were  lingering  lovingly  over 
the  scene.  The  two  rivers  were  burnished 
threads;  the  fields  were  green  with .  the  young 
grain.  In  the  village  gardens  the  clustered  fruit 
trees  were  in  a  pink  flush  of  profuse  bloom. 
The  blue  of  the  hills  beyond  the  Mississippi, 
the  old  church,  the  homes  of  Marie  and  her- 
self, the  slaves  loading  the  flat-boats  that  were 
to  carry  supplies  to  far-off  New  Orleans — she 
was  conscious  of  each  detail,  yet  dreamily  so. 
Suddenly  she  aroused  herself  and  said  abruptly: 

"Marie,  did  Josephine  say  that  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme  would  return  to-night?" 

Marie,  whose  previous  remarks  had  passed 
unnoticed,  had  in  the  meantime  given  her  atten- 
tion to  a  robin  that  was  beginning  its  nest  in 
the  branches  overhead.  She,  used  to  these 
abrupt  transitions,  answered  simply:  "Jose- 
phine said  that  he  was  expected  at  vespers." 

Annette  looked  away  and  asked  no  more 
questions. 

Marie  skipped  lightly  from  the  swing,  ran 
rapidly  up  and  down  the  ruined  embankment  of 
the  old  fort,  and  finally  threw  herself  down  at 
the  feet  of  Annette,  and,  gazing  shyly  into  the 
great,  lustrous  eyes  that  were  seemingly  look- 
ing into  things  unknown,  said  softly: 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  9 

"Oh,  Annette,  you  are  beautiful  this  moment." 

A  swift  blush  passed  over  Annette's  face  at 
this,  and  an  impatient  "Fi  done"  was  the  re- 
sponse. 

Marie  picked  up  one  of  the  dogwood  blossoms. 

"Annette,  old  Francoise  says  that  poison  lurks 
in  this  pretty  flower." 

"I  love  them,"  said  Annette,  passionately,  and 
touched  one  of  the  blossoms  with  a  caressing 
hand.  "Poison  lurks  in  many  things,"  she  added. 
"Anyway  Francoise  is  ugly  and  often  cross. 
I  wonder  that  Col.  Menard  allows  her  about  his 
place.  I  always  shiver  a  little  when  I  go  by 
the  tan-bark  cot  around  the  corner  of  the  stone 
spring-house." 

"Listen!  she  was  the  wife  of  the  chief  Du- 
coign,  and  Col.  Menard  is  too  kind-hearted  to 
send  her  away.  She  and  Moqua,  her  grandson, 
have  lived  there  this  great  while." 

"Col.  Menard  has  a  swarm  of  hangers-on  to 
eat  up  his  substance." 

"Ah,  but  the  gardens  are  lovely — charmante" 
continued  Marie,  clasping  her  hands  in  her 
ardor,  "and  the  gallery  I  adore.  Ah,  the  moon- 
light evenings  when  one  walks  and  walks  back 
and  forth  on  the  long  gallery !  The  sweet  per- 


10  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

fume  of  the  flowers,  rising  from  the  gardens, 
and  the  glint  of  the  moon  here  and  there  on  the 
river,  as  we  catch  it  occasionally  through  the 
openings  in  the  pecan  grove !"  Marie  gave  a  sigh 
of  retrospective  pleasure. 

"Simple,  what  do  you  know  of  moonlight  even- 
ings, mon  enfant?'1'' 

"A  great  deal.  I  am  almost  grown.  I  know 
that  you  are  sixteen,  but  am  I  not  fifteen  past, 
and  Madame  was  married,  and  happily,  at — " 

A  merry  peal  burst  from  Annette.  The  bird 
that  was  building  flew  away  in  a  sad  fright. 
But  the  grave  look  returned,  and  she  changed 
the  subject. 

"Marie,  there  are  many  strange  persons  com- 
ing these  days,  and  a  queer  assortment,  think 
you  not?  I  like  it  not  altogether;  their  ways 
are  not  our  ways." 

"Ah,  but,"  said  Marie  eagerly,  "are  you  not 
proud  to  think  that  they  must  first  come  to 
'Kaskia?  There  is  no  other  settlement  so  pros- 
perous as  ours.  See  the  heavily  laden  boats," 
waving  her  hand  and  looking  down  upon  the 
nearer  river. 

"There  is  St.  Louis,"  began  Annette. 

Said  Marie  disdainfully:     "St.  Louis  came  to 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  11 

us  for  supplies.  They  are  so  brusque,  so  outre 
—most  of  them.  Since  the  war  with  the  English, 
and  those  soldiers  have  discovered  how  fair  a 
country  is  ours,  they  must  needs  return.  They 
call  it  an  earthly  paradise,  with  its  genial  skies 
and  luxuriant  crops.  Do  they  appear  fit  resi- 
dents for  paradise?" 

"How  far  away  is  Virginia,  Annette?  I  heard 
a  man  the  other  evening  (he  wore  a  soiled  uni- 
form) saying  that  once  we  were  a  part  of  Vir- 
ginia. Do  you  believe  it?" 

"I  know  not,"  said  Annette,  indifferently.  "It 
must  have  been  long  ago." 

"France  seems  nearer  to  me  than  any  other 
land — la  belle  France!"  said  Marie. 

"The  dear  mamma  remains  a  long  time  away. 
How  that  tiresome  business  does  vex  me.  Oh, 
mamma!"  And  the  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

"There,  there,  it  will  soon  pass,  ma  chere. 
Think  of  the  beautiful  new  dress  and  the  slip- 
pers, Marie — the  slippers  that  she  promised  to 
bring  direct  from  Paris  itself.  Ah,  think  of 
that!"  And  she  took  the  young  face  between 
both  hands  and  kissed  it. 

"Yes,  for  the  King's  ball,"  said  Marie,  bright- 
ening with  the  thought.  "Hark,  there  is  the 


12  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

vesper  bell!  We  have  stayed  too  long,"  said 
Annette,  rising  in  haste  as  the  silvery  tones 
resounded  through  the  valley,  softened  as  heard 
across  the  river. 

This,  the  first  bell  in  the  Mississippi  Valley, 
was  the  great  pride  of  the  village.  It  had  been 
presented  by  the  King  of  France,  Louis  XV., 
to  one  of  the  citizens,  Louis  Buyatte,  to  be 
given  to  the  infant  church.  This  Louis  Buyatte 
was  related  to  the  nobility,  and  after  emigrating 
was  very  zealous  in  behalf  of  the  interests  of 
the  Church  of  the  Immaculate  Conception. 

The  two  young  girls  quickly  traversed  the 
steep  path  leading  down  Garrison  Hill,  and,  cut- 
ting across  Col.  Menard's  place,  came  out  on  the 
level  stretch  that  bordered  the  water.  As  they 
passed  through  the  pecan  grove  they  saw  the 
Colonel  moving  slowly  under  the  trees.  This 
grove  was  the  delight  of  his  heart.  It  took  the 
place  of  the  park  of  older  countries. 

Col.  Menard  paused  in  his  walk  to  greet  the 
two  maidens.  He  made  them  a  courtly  bow 
and  inquired  kindly  after  their  respective  families. 

"Is  Madame  Dubreil  in  good  health  since  she 
crossed  the  ocean?" 

"Quite  in  good  health,  monsieur,"  answered 
Marie  politely. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  13 

"And  Monsieur  Beauvais  ?"  turning  to  Annette. 

"Oui,  monsieur,"  she  answered  distantly. 

Col.  Menard  slightly  raised  his  brows,  but 
said  no  more.  After  again  bowing  to  them  he 
resumed  his  walk. 

"  Les  petit  es  charmantes"  he  said  to  himself, 
"but  what  is  awry  with  Annette?  Stately." 
And  he  smiled  at  the  thought.  "She  will  be  a 
queen  among  women  some  day.  What  a  noble 
brow,  and  hair  arranged  quite  in  keeping  with 
her  own  individual  style.  Marie  is  a  dear  little 
creature." 

Then  he  straightway  forgot  the  girls  as  he 
mused  on  government  questions.  He  had  always 
been  foremost  in  the  issues  of  the  day.  He 
was  the  president  of  the  Council,  and  many  of 
its  wise  enactments  had  originated  with  him. 
The  Northern  settlements  were  prospering. 
Everything  pointed  toward  the  merging  of  the 
Territory  into  a  State,  and  in  his  mind  the  out- 
lines of  a  suitable  constitution  were  taking  shape. 

In  a  very  short  time  Annette  and  Marie  were 
on  the  bank  of  the  Kaskaskia.  Risden  was 
waiting  in  a  canoe  to  carry  them  to  the  other 
shore. 

The   laborers    had     departed.      Some    little 


14  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

blacks  were  playing  hide  and  seek  among  the 
various  bulky  masses  piled,  at  irregular  intervals, 
along  the  edge  of  the  river. 

As  the  girls  proceeded  along  the  main  street, 
cheerful  greetings  met  them  on  all  sides. 

A  happy  and  pleasure-loving  people!  Room 
was  abundant,  yet  the  streets  were  narrow 
enough  for  social  housewives  to  chat  across  the 
intervening  space. 

A  genial  climate,  fertile  soil,  abundant  crops, 
and  numerous  land  grants  had  developed  much 
wealth  in  the  community,  but  the  houses  were 
primitive  for  the  most  part,  an  inter-mixture  of 
luxury  with  rude  accompaniments. 

Turning  a  corner,  they  passed  a  horseman, 
who  waved  his  cap  in  the  air,  and  they  smiled 
upon  him. 

A  dull  flush  came  into  Annette's  pale  com- 
plexion. % 

"Ah!"  said  Marie,  "there  is  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme.  I  wonder  what  news  he  bears." 

"Adieu,  Marie,  our  half  holiday  is  over.  I 
shall  see  you  at  lessons  to-morrow?" 

"Oui,  oui,"  answered  Marie,  drawing  down 
the  corners  of  her  mouth. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AT    HOME. 

EARLY  the  next  day,  Annette  passed  through 
the  house  carolling  a  gay  French  song.  Her 
spirits,  this  morning,  were  joyous,  care-free, 
whatever  might  have  been  her  mood  the  pre- 
vious day. 

Her  fit  of  abstraction  and  gloom  of  manner 
had  vanished,  and  she  was  as  light  of  heart 
and  happy  as  a  girl  of  her  years  ought  to  be. 

She  peeped  into  the  dining-room  and  then 
went  into  the  garden  to  pluck  a  posy  to  grace 
the  meal.  Her  father  liked  these  delicate  finish- 
ing-touches. 

Monsieur  Beauvais,  when  left  a  widower  at 
Annette's  birth,  had  hoped  for  nothing  from  the 
future.  His  only  thought  had  been  to  get  as 
far  away  as  possible  from  scenes  that  had  wit- 
nessed what  had  been  a  heaven  on  earth,  but 
were  purgatory  after  the  death  of  his  young 

wife.      Hence  he  had  gathered  some  odd  lots  of 
15 


16  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

furniture,  with  no  apparent  choice  in  their 
selection,  and  with  his  two  children  emigrated 
to  America.  Of  independent  fortune,  he  fol- 
lowed his  own  promptings  in  the  matter. 

Touching  at  New  Orleans,  but  remembering 
that  a  friend,  with  whom  he  had  in  the  past 
corresponded  in  a  desultory  manner,  lived  in  the 
wilds  of  the  mid-continent,  he  resolved  to  reach 
this  friend  and  find  a  home  at  the  same  place. 

Accordingly  he  embarked  family  and  goods 
upon  a  flat-boat,  and  then  began  the  long, 
tedious  up-river  voyage,  by  means  of  the  cor- 
delle. 

Annette  was  a  child  of  two  years  at  that  time, 
and  her  brother  Antoine  a  bright,  restless  child 
of  five.  An  old  servant,  ever  faithful  to  the 
Beauvais,  watched  over  the  little  Annette. 
Babette,  the  nurse,  had  long  since  closed  her 
eyes  upon  this  world. 

Black  Rose  held  full  sway  over  the  estab- 
lishment. Her  cooking  was  good,  but  she  was 
given  to  tantrums.  She  had  been  an  indentured 
servant,  but  was  in  possession  of  free  papers  at 
this  date.  However,  she  refused  to  leave  the 
family  and  would  hear  of  no  change. 

The  preparations  for  the   meal   were   simple. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  17 

The  cloth  was  white,  the  service  old-fashioned, 
brought  from  France.  The  table  was  made 
from  two;  one  side  of  either  being  round,  and 
the  other  square.  The  two  square  sides,  being 
joined,  made  a  single  piece.  Two  or  three  good 
articles  of  furniture  were  in  the  room,  one  an 
ancient  sideboard  of  rich  mahogany.  When  a 
child,  Annette  had  been  fascinated  with  the 
feet,  which  represented  lions'  paws.  She  would 
poke  her  own  fat  fingers  in  and  around  these, 
occasionally  trying  her  teeth  on  them  by  way  of 
change. 

But  Annette  returned  to  the  room,  and, 
placing  the  flowers  by  her  father's  plate,  waited 
rather  impatiently. 

In  a  few  moments  black  Rose  entered  with  a 
plate  of  hot  cakes  in  one  hand  and  a  bowl  of 
honey  in  the  other. 

"Good  morning,  ma'm'selle.  Fresh  fish  for 
you  dis  morning." 

"Ah,  Antoine  has  been  out — so  early?" 

"Antoine  will  answer  for  himself, "said  a  hand- 
some youth,  as  he  stepped  lightly  inside  the 
door,  and,  taking  his  sister  by  both  ears,  kissed 
first  one  cheek  and  then  the  other. 

"Antoine,  you  have  too  much  frivolite." 


18  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Oui,  oui,  Annette,"  repeating  his  previous 
action  with  much  sang-froid. 

"Antoine,"  said  Annette,  laughing,  "call  papa. 
I  cannot  wait  longer.  Fresh  fish — such  a 
change!  We  do  not  have  it  oftener  than  three 
times  a  week  since  Antoine  turned  angler." 

"Thanking  me — do  not  forget  to  put  that  in," 
said  Antoine. 

"Thanking  Antoine,"  she  said  mockingly. 

But  her  countenance  changed  instantly.  A 
swift  expression  crossed  her  eyes — what  is  it? — 
apprehension,  fear,  pain? — as  her  father  opened 
a  side  door  and  entered  abruptly. 

"Good  morning,  papa,"  the  two  young  voices 
said  in  concert. 

Papa  Beauvais  nodded  kindly  to  his  children, 
and  then  all  seated  themselves  around  the  board. 

Monsieur,  a  slight,  dark  man,  appeared  to  be 
much  older  than  he  really  was.  His  hair  was 
growing  thin,  and  was  well  sprinkled  with  gray. 
The  neighbors  usually  referred  to  him  as  the 
"old  monsieur,"  though  he  did  not  deserve  the 
title  on  account  of  age.  An  intellectual  face, 
but  th'ere  was  a  dull  look  about  the  eyes.  His 
books,  his  garden,  his  large  plantation  on  the 
other  river  filled  his  time.  He  paid  very  little 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  19 

attention  to  the  training  of  his  children.  The 
early  French  were  neglectful  in  respect  to  educa- 
tion. What  Antoine  had  procured  of  knowledge 
was  due  to  the  priest.  Annette  had  fared  worse, 
but  at  present  she  and  Marie  were  reading  with 
an  English  lady  and  taking  some  instruction  in 
drawing. 

"Annette,"  said  Monsieur,  "where  did  you  and 
Marie  walk,  yesterday?" 

"Over  on  Garrison  Hill,  by  the  old  fort,  papa," 
answered  Annette,  looking  surprised,  as  her 
father  seldom  manifested  any  interest  in  her 
pursuits. 

"That  was  rather  far,  was  it  not?" 

"Yes,  but  there  are  many  wild  flowers,  and,  oh, 
papa,  you  should  see  the  dogwood.  It  is  one 
mass  of  white,"  exclaimed  Annette  enthusiast- 
ically. 

"There  is  a  fine  prospect  from  the  hill.  I 
wonder  what  Col.  Clarke  would  have  said  had 
any  one  told  him  to  what  we  would  grow.  He 
could  not  have  laughed  in  his  sleeve  at  us  at  this 
stage,"  said  Antoine. 

"Did  he  laugh  because  of  the  small  village, 
Antoine?" 

"Oh,  do  you  not  know   how  the  story  goes, 


20  OLD  'KASKIA  D/tYS 

Annette?  That  he  marched  his  band  across  the 
wilderness  and  took  the  fort  by  surprise?" 

"That  was  one  fourth  of  July,"  said  Monsieur. 

"It  was  sharp  of  him,  though,  to  march  his 
twenty  men  round  and  round  the  fort,  so  as  to 
make  the  villagers  believe  that  he  had  a  large 
force  at  his  command." 

"The  bluff  is  steep  and  the  path  narrow,  even 
at  this  day,"  said  Annette. 

"The  villagers  were  nearly  dead  with  fright," 
said  Antoine,  laughing.  "They  rushed  to  and 
fro  and  thought  that  he  would  give  them  no 
quarter.  It  is  thought  that  the -priest  himself 
turned  pale." 

"Good  Father  Gibeault?"  asked  Annette. 

"Listen,  Antoine," said  Monsieur.  "Clarke  was 
a  young  man  of  twenty-five  when  he  formed 
the  design  of  relieving  the  Western  frontier. 
To  do  this  was  really  to  gain  an  empire  in  extent. 
I  heard  the  old  men  talking  about  it  when  I 
first  reached  'Kaskia.  The  British  posts  were 
supplying  the  Indians  with  the  means  of  murder- 
ing unprotected  families,  and  were  paying  gold 
for  their  scalps." 

"Oh,  papa!"  said  Annette,  with  a  shudder. 

"Garrison  Hill  was   one   of   the    posts,"  said 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  21 

Antoine,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "The  French 
had  been  led  to  believe  that  the  Virginians, 
called  'Long  Knives'  by  the  Indians,  were  mon- 
sters of  cruelty.  Gov.  Patrick  Henry  signed 
secret  instructions  for  Clarke  to  march  to  Kas- 
kaskia.  He  was  a  brilliant  soldier,  in  open  war- 
fare or  in  the  ruse  de  guerre.  But  the  men  and 
supplies  promised  him  failed  when  he  reached 
the  banks  of  the  Kaskaskia.  Only  one  hundred 
and  fifty  men  composed  the  force.  And  there 
on  its  banks  at  midnight  he  addressed  the  brave 
warriors."  And  Antoine  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
in  pantomime  represented  Clarke  in  the  act  of 
speaking. 

"There,  Antoine,"  said  his  father,  "sit  down 
and  finish  your  breakfast.  It  is  enough  to  know 
that  he  told  them  that  they  were  fighting  for 
their  own  wives  and  children,  although  so  far 
from  them;  that  it  was  the  fourth  of  July  and 
they  must  act  so  as  to  honor  it;  that  the  fort 
and  town  must  be  taken." 

"And  how   was  that,  papa?"   asked  Annette. 

She  had  heard  the  tale  of  the  capture  over 
and  over  again,  but  now  asked  him  to  repeat  it 
because  she  enjoyed  the  reminiscences. 

"There   were   three   divisions;    two  were  to 


22  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

enter  the  town  at  the  extreme  ends.  The  third 
was  to  remain  at  the  east  side,  and  capture  Fort 
Gage.  Clarke  was  with  that  division.  The 
French  in  the  village  were  awakened  by  the  most 
hideous  yells  and  noises.  They  were  made  to 
believe  that  a  large  army  of  the  'Long  Knives' 
were  coming  to  destroy  the  place.  They  sur- 
rendered all  guns  and  means  of  defense.  The 
daylight,  revealing  the  ra'gged,  unkempt,  soiled 
and  hence  wild-looking  men,  made  them  more 
alarmed  than  ever.  Kenton  led  the  band  into 
the  fort  in  the  meantime.  A  Pennsylvanian 
opened  to  them.  Had  he  proved  treacherous, 
imagine  the  condition  of  these  men,  hemmed  in 
in  the  midst  of  an  armed  garrison.  Gov.  Roche- 
blave  was  awakened  by  Kenton  placing  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder." 

"Rocheblave  was  insolent  afterwards,  and 
Col.  Clarke  put  him  in  chains,  did  he  not?" 
asked  Antoine. 

"And  Madame  Rocheblave  concealed  and  de- 
stroyed valuable  public  documents,"  said 
Annette. 

"Fort  Gage  was  built  of  large  square  timbers, 
and  was  an  oblong,  200  by  291  feet.  The  mag- 
azine of  stores  was  a  stone  building  inside  of  the 
fort." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  23 

"Did  they  firs  on  us  from  the  fort?" 

"On  us?"  repeated  Antoine. 

"Oh,  my  meaning  you  know — on  dear  old 
'Kaskia?"  said  Annette. 

"Yes,  a  few  shots  from  the  cannon.  There  is 
a  hole  in  the  wall  of  one  house,  from  a  shell. 
Clarke  pretended  that  he  would  give  them  no 
quarter.  The  priest  and  the  elder  men  waited 
upon  him,  to  know  their  fate.  He  kept  them 
for  a  few  days  in  suspense,  until  they  were  at  the 
highest  pitch  of  excitement.  Then  he  addressed 
them: 

"'Do  you  mistake  us  for  savages?  My  country 
disdains  to  make  war  upon  helpless  innocence. 
To  prevent  the  horrors  of  Indian  butchery  on 
our  own  wives  and  children,  we  have  taken  up 
arms  and  penetrated  to  this  stronghold  of  Indian 
and  British  barbarity,  and  not  for  despicable 
plunder.  The  King  of  France  has  united  his 
powerful  arms  with  those  of  America,  and  the 
contest  will  soon  be  ended.  The  people  of 
'Kaskia  may  side  with  either  party.  To  verify 
my  words,  go  and  tell  your  people  to  do  as  they 
please,  without  any  danger  from  me.' 

"And  the  bell  did  ring,  and  husbands  ran  to 
tell  their  wives,  and  all  were  filled  with  extrav- 
agant joy. 


24  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Virginia  in  1778  formed  the  Illinois  country, 
now  a  county  of  that  name.  Col.  Clarke  .  was 
appointed  military  commander,  and  many  of 
the  Illinois  French  entered  in  his  campaigns, 
and  no  better  soldiers  or  braver  could  be  found. 

"But,  Annette,  many  of  the  leading  men  in 
our  territory  were  volunteers  in  Clarke's  com- 
pany, which  took  Fort  Gage.  They  liked  our 
country  and  returned  as  pioneers." 


CHAPTER  III. 

STRATEGY. 

"Papa,  it  was  but  yesterday  that  Marie  asked 
me  about  our  belonging  to  Virginia,"  said  An- 
nette. 

These  recitals  of  war  and  incidents  were  gen- 
eral with  the  villagers  in  those  early  days. 
The  hunt,  the  chase,  the  various  Indian  wars, 
the  war  of  1812 — such  topics  filled  up  the 
hours  that  in  the  present  day  would  be  devoted 
to  the  papers  or  the  latest  books. 

"It  is  forty  years  ago,  but  one, "said  Monsieur 
Beauvais,  "since  Col.  Clarke's  expedition." 

"You  were  in  a  French  school  at  that  time, 
Papa  Beauvais." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  never  saw  this  country  until  I 
brought  you  here,  my  child,"  said  Monsieur 
sadly. 

"Ah,  I  forgot,"  said  Annette  softly,  and  the 
subject  was  not  resumed. 

Black  Rose  startled  them  from  a   reverie  into 

25 


26  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

which  each  had  fallen.  Putting  her  head  in  the 
window,  which  stood  open,  the  sash  swinging 
back  on  its  hinges  according  to  French  fashion, 
she  said: 

"Monsieur,  dat  yaller  French  nigger  Jule  is 
hyar  wid  a  pack  of  letters  and  papers,  and  he 
say  dat  Monsieur  get  him  to  bring  dem  hyah, 
and  he  says,  dat  nigger  says,  dat  a  boat  cum  up 
de  ribber  from  away  down  dere,  and  Jule  parley 
voo\" 

"Now,  Rose,"  said  Monsieur,  "tell  Jule  to 
deliver  his  own  message,"  for  when  Rose  dropped 
into  French  it  was  high  time  to  recall  her.  She 
had  been  brought  to  the  village  by  an  English 
family  from  Virginia.  She  wouldn't  or  couldn't 
learn  the  other  language  to  any  degree,  although 
it  was  common  for  many  of  the  blacks  to  talk 
French,  English  and  Indian.  She  had  picked 
up  French  terms,  but  could  not  compete  "wid 
dem  yaller  niggers,"  as  she  called  them  in  scorn. 

Jule  gave  a  very  profound  bow  to  the  young 
ma'm'selle  as  he  entered. 

"So  Monsieur  St.  'Gemme  is  at  home  again?" 

"He  is,  indeed,  monsieur  (with  a  bow),  and 
glad  enough  we  are.  He  sends  his  compliments, 
he  do,  to  you  all,  and  hopes  to  have  the  pleas- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  27 

ure  of  calling  this  evening  providing  it  suits  you, 
Monsieur,"  said  Jule  glibly  in  French. 

Monsieur  Beauvais  replied  that  it  would  afford 
him  great  pleasure  to  have  Monsieur  call. 

"Much  of  a  cargo  in  last  night,  Jule?"  asked 
Antoine. 

"Oui,  Monsieur  Antoine.  Menardhave  a  fine 
lot  of  goods  from  Orleans.  Great  dresses  at  the 
ball  certain." 

"Why,  I  thought  their  goods  came  from  the 
East,  Jule?"  said  Monsieur  Beauvais. 

Jule  hung  his  head;  he  liked  to  draw  on  his 
imagination. 

"Mabbe  it  was  provisions,  then.  Yes,  it  must 
have  been  that,  certain.  The  ball  dresses  came 
from  Baltimore,  perhaps." 

"Anyway,"  said  Jule  brightening,  "Gen.  Edgar 
send  a  lot  of  his  flour  down  next  time.  I'm  sure 
of  that,  for  £  saw  the  men  loading  yesterday." 

"Who  goes  with  it  this  time?" 

"Francis  Menard  himself  talks  a  little  of  it," 
said  Jule  as  he  was  departing  upon  Monsieur 
Beauvais  dismissing  him. 

Jule  loved  to  spread  the  news.  If  he  could 
astonish  any  one,  he  was  happy. 

"Come,"  said  Monsieur  Beauvais,   rising  from 


28  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

the  table,  "let  us  see  what  this  package  contains." 

He  was  now  buried  in  his  letters,  while  An- 
toine  and  Annette  examined  their  share. 

In  a  package  for  the  latter  were  silk  mits,  some 
ribbons  and  laces,  sent  her  by  far-away  cousins; 
also  a  ring  set  with  a  ruby  and  pearls,  this  from 
her  grandmother.  Antoine  gave  an  exclamation 
of  pleasure,  in  which  Annette  joined,  when  she 
saw  him  open  a  music  roll,  with  score  for  violin 
exposed.  They  exchanged  meaning  glances,  and 
Antoine  wielded  an  imaginary  bow,  and  held  in 
place  the  corresponding  instrument. 

"La  Fille  du  Regiment,  Beatrice  Di  Tenda, 
II  Desidero,  Lucia  di  Lammermoor,  and  a  host 
of  others,"  he  whispered  delightedly. 

"Come  up  to  the  attic  presently,  and  we  will 
try  them  together,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"Antoine,"  said  her  father,  looking  up,  "I 
have  some  letters  on  business  here,  and  I  am 
under  the  necessity  of  going  over  to  the  planta- 
tion in  consequence.  Will  you  see  that  Risden 
has  my  pony  ready  in  an  hour?" 

"Oui,  papa."  "Just  our  chance,"  he  said  to  his 
sister,  as  he  passed  her  chair. 

She  smiled  and  nodded  assent. 

The  prospect  of  a  ride   on  this   fine   spring 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  29 

morning  brightened  even  Papa  Beauvais'  dull 
eyes  as  he  came  down  the  walk  and  mounted  his 
French  pony. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  his  line  of  thought  sug- 
gested by  the  conversation  of  the  morning,  "they 
reproach  us  and  say  that  we  have  little  ambition 
or  enterprise  in  our  nature,  but  we  make  valiant 
soldiers,  never  quailing  in  the  bloodiest  carnage. 
We  will  march  to  the  mouth  of  the  cannon  un- 
flinchingly. They  cannot  deny  our  bravery. 
Clarke  found  that  out  afterwards  in  his  cam- 
paign. But  it  is  a  vast  wilderness  yet,"  he  re- 
flected, raising  his  eyes  to  the  bluffs  on  the  east 
side  of  the  river,  where  Garrison  Hill  stood  out 
in  relief.  He  pictured  to  himself  the  scenes  that 
had  transpired  on  that  historical  spot — the 
French  commandants  that  had  come,  and  in 
time  had  disappeared;  the  British  garrisons  that 
had  held  the  fort.  "Illinois  French  they  have 
named  us." 

His  thoughts  ran  on,  and  then  he  turned  his 
eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  Indian  lodges,  from 
which  the  blue  smoke  was  curling  to  the  skies. 
A  remnant  as  compared  with  the  tribes  of  the 
Illinois  that  roamed  these  forests.  A  thought 
thrilled  him  just  then  and  stirred  the  calm  of  his 


30  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

nature.  The  Jesuit  fathers  crowded  out  too, 
alas!  and  others.  The  brave  Morest  enduring 
the  most  severe  exposure,  following  in  the  wake 
of  the  gentle  and  eloquent  Pinet.  The  pious 
Mermet,  undergoing  trial  and  hardship,  peril  and 
suffering,  to  plant  the  Church.  "It  is  inevitable. 
They  are  already  at  our  heels.  Is  he  destined 
to  supplant  the  'Illinois  French'?" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

i 

THE  ATTIC  CHAMBER. 

"ANNETTE,"  said  Antoine,  "come,  now  is  our 
opportunity."  Gathering  up  the  roll  of  music, 
he  started  around  the  house,  and  mounted  an 
outside  stairway  leading  to  an  attic  over  an  ell 
at  the  north  end. 

Annette  was  nothing  loth  to  follow.  The 
light  in  the  attic  was  dim  as  it  penetrated  the 
dirty  panes  of  two  small  dormer  windows.  Yet 
it  was  sufficient  for  young  ey^es.  Antoine  opened 
a  violin  case  lying  on  the  top  of  an  old  chest, 
and,  taking  out  the  instrument,  commenced  to 
ringer  the  strings  lovingly. 

"Who  shall  begin?"  said  he. 

"You,  Antoine,"  said  Annette,  restraining  her 
impatience.  Seating  herself  on  the  edge  of  a 
dilapidated  chair,  she  listened  with  keen  enjoy- 
ment to  the  strains  of  "Lucretia  Borgia"  and 
other  airs  as  Antoine  tried  one  after  another. 

"Now,  Annette,  it  is  your  turn."     She  sprang 
31 


32  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

up   with   alacrity,    reaching  for   the   violin  and 
music,  which  she  placed  in  position. 

She  made  a  most  interesting  picture,  standing 
there  in  the  unconscious  grace  of  a  posture  that 
might  be  envied  by  pupils  of  a  most  artistic  train- 
ing. A  white  hand  and  perfectly  turned  wrist, 
raised  in  the  act  of  bowing,  the  taper  fingers  of 
the  other  hand  pressing  the  frets.  The  usually 
pale  countenance  was  flushed  with  the  pleasing 
excitement  of  a  new  score,  and  the  dark  eyes 
luminous  with  feeling. 

Antoine  looked  on  in  sympathetic  appreciation, 
for  was  she  not  his  own  pupil?  The  brother 
and  sister  were  comrades  in  every  sense.  When 
Annette  teased  him  to  let  her  play  too,  he  at 
first  said: 

"Nonsense;  the  violin  is  not  for  girls.  What 
would  people  think  to  see  you  with  one  in  your 
hands?" 

"I  care  not  what  they  think.  Other  girls  have 
been  known  to  play.  Anyway,  they  needn't  see 
me,  if  I  only,  I  myself,  can  play  for  myself." 

So  the  attic  was  the  rendezvous,  and  no  one 
any  the  wiser,  save  black  Rose. 

But  Antoine  did  think  it  a  great  pity  after  all 
that  so  much  good  playing  was  lost  to  their 
friends. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  33 

"Oh,  Antoine,  here  are  some  duos  for  first 
and  second  violin/'  she  cried  as  she  turned  over 
the  pages. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Antoine.  He  flew 
out  of  the  door  and  was  back  in  a  short  space 
of  time,  for  he  had  run  the  block  and  borrowed 
a  friend's  instrument. 

"Antoine,"  she  said  after  a  while,  "do  you 
know  I  love  this  much  more  than  going  to  the 
ball?" 

"That  is  because  you  do  not  fancy  any  one  of 
the  party.  What  do  you  expect,  Annette?  Our 
young  men  here  have  wealth,  some  of  them  are 
of  good  birth,  some  even  of  rank.  There  are  De 
Bardeau,  the  De  Moutbrun.  Why  do  you  dislike 
Baptiste  so  much?" 

"Chut!"  said  Annette,  looking  annoyed,  "never 
mention  him  to  me." 

"Not  mention  him  to  you  when  he  made  you 
queen  at  the  last  'King's  ball'  ?" 

"I  care  not  to  play  the  queen  to  Baptiste  in 
the  role  of  king,"  she  said  haughtily. 

Antoine's  question,  "What  do  you  expect?" 
had  aroused  a  vague  interest  in  her.  What 
was  it?  Not  wealth  alone,  Fine  looks?  No, 
that  of  course,  but  more.  Was  she  too  aspiring, 


34  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

looked  too  high,  and  out  of  all  reason,  for  her? 
No,  it  was  not  that  either.  Her  young  nature 
was  putting  forth  antennae,  reaching  out  for  her 
own.  Would  she  ever  find  her  own?  The  dull 
flush  came  into  her  face  as  a  half  perception  pre- 
sented itself. 

She  laid  down  the  instrument  and  turned  aside 
as  if  unwilling  to  acknowledge  this  thought. 

Antoine  exclaimed,  "Oh,  not  yet." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "it  is  gone." 

Antoine  well  understood  her  moods.  He  knew 
that  all  melody  had  left  her  soul.  And  as  he 
had  often  said,  "You  cannot  play  unless  it  is 
first  in  the  soul,"  he  did  not  urge  her,  but  con- 
tinued alone  to  run  over  the  remaining  passages. 

Annette  crossed  the  attic  to  where  stood  a 
trunk  obsolete  in  style,  now  used  as  a  receptacle 
for  old  letters.  These  were  mostly  in  French, 
but  some  were  in  German,  left  by  an  old,  eccen- 
tric professor  from  a  German  university,  who  in 
the  course  of  his  wanderings  had  reached  the 
settlement  in  the  wilderness.  He  had  taught 
Antoine  what  knowledge  he  possessed  of  the  in- 
strument when  Antoine  was  a  small  lad.  An- 
toine's  present  skill  had  developed  with  his  years, 
natural  gifts  supplying  the  lack  of  instruction. 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  35 

"Why  does  papa  keep  all  of  this  rubbish?  It 
should  be  destroyed.  Only  the  rats  gain  from 
it,"  said  Annette. 

"Perhaps  future  generations  may,  if  ever  there 
should  be  such  a  mad  rage  for  old  documents  in 
this  country  as  once  there  was  in  Florence." 

"When  was  that?" 

"In  the  fifteenth  century,  when  men  would  in- 
vest a  fortune  in  an  old  manuscript." 

"That  is  like  what  Ma'm'selle  told  us  of  Hol- 
land and  the  speculations  in  tulip  bulbs.  How 
amusing  it  must  have  been  to  hear  those  grave 
old  professors  discussing  the  merits  of  this  or 
that  particular  bulb,  and  of  the  rise  or  fall  in  the 
market." 

"What,  do  you  think  that  there  will  ever  be 
as  much  mistaken  zeal  in  this  land,  Antoine?" 

"Humuli  souli,"  replied  Antoine  abruptly. 
He  caught  an  expression  occasionally  from  his 
political  elders.  Stray  sentences  here  and  there, 
at  long  intervals,  may  have  been  the  pebbles 
dropped  into  the  current  of  passing  events  that 
caused  the  ever  increasing  ripple  of  widely 
diffused  waves  of  influence. 

Annette  did  not  understand  him,  nor  did  he 
himself  understand  the  full  import  of  his  remark. 


36  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Then  the  talk  drifted  away  to  local  matters 
until  Rose  interrupted  them  by  pounding  on  the 
lowest  step  and  calling  out:  "Hey,  up  dere! 
Ma'm'selle  Marie  is  at  de  gate,  an'  she  say  it  am 
time  for  de  lessons.  Do  you  hyah?" 

Annette  arose  quickly,  brushing  against  a 
hunter's  outfit  of  deerskin,  the  cap,  with  its  fox- 
brush attached,  flapping  in  her  face  as  she  passed 
to  the  door. 

"Adieu,"  called  Antoinegayly,  as  she  hastened 
to  meet  Marie. 

She  gave  him  a  parting  smile  and  disappeared. 

"Rose,"  said  Annette,  "papa  has  gone  to  the 
other  river,  and  may  not  be  back  to  lunch." 

"Very  well,  Ma'm'selle.  I'll  sabe  him  a  bit 
of  something.  T'ink  the  Monsieur  right  well 
dese  days,  honey?"  Rose  had  a  soft  spot  in  her 
heart  for  old  master,  as  she  called  him  to  herself, 
but  she  never  forgot  the  Monsieur  before  others. 
"She  had  to  keep  up  wid  dose  French  niggers 
shure,  even  if  dey  did  trip  around  wid  deir  noses 
in  the  air,  and  their  manners  so  mightily  fine. 
Dey  dassent  laud  it  over  black  Rose,  sho  now." 

"Oh,  yes,  Rose, "answered  Annette  decidedly. 
"Appetite  lags  in  the  spring." 

"Tisn't  dat,  'zactly,"  began  Rose. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  37 

Annette  didn't  wait  to  encourage  further  ob- 
servations on  the  part  of  Rose. 

She  found  Marie  seated  upon  the  wooden 
settee  that  was  placed  near  the  door  in  the  wide 
hall.  Later  in  the  season  it  would  be  moved 
out  on  the  gallery. 


CHAPTER  V. 

BAPTISTE. 

"ANNETTE,  "said  the  young  girl,  jumping  up  to 
meet  her  friend,  "we  are  late.  Ma'm'selle  will 
despair  and  say  that  we  have  no  interest  and 
are  giddy  and  frivolous  like  other  girls. 

"Let  us,  then,  not  stand  here  longer,"  said 
Annette,  with  roguish  eyes,  as  she  put  on  her 
white  sun-bonnet,  and  they  started  down  the 
walk  to  the  gate. 

Annette  and  Marie,  "inseparable,"  said  their 
friends.  Marie,  petite,  tender,  every  movement 
instinct  with  grace;  Annette,  calm  usually  to 
stateliness,  but,  if  the  mood  were  upon  her,  a 
mocking  gayety  or  a  hidden  restlessness  would 
come  to  the  surface  and  beyond  her  control. 

Later  in  the  season  the  village  street  would 
be  brilliant  with  the  flowers  that  bloomed  in  the 
gardens,  which  were  arranged  so  tastefully. 
Marie  had  a  knot  of  sweet  violets  at  her  belt, 

which  exhaled  their  aroma  as  she  moved. 

38 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  39 

Annette  spoke  of  them  in  a  complimentary 
way. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Marie  carelessly,  "Baptiste 
handed  the  bunch  to  me  on  my  way  to  you." 

"Marie,  I  wish  you  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him." 

"Why  not,  ma  belle  cousine?"  (opening  her 
eyes.)  Cousine  was  a  term  of  endearment  in 
this  case,  the  girls  being  warmly  attached.  "He 
is  handsome  and  bows  with  such  an  air,  no 
matter  if  he  is  in  hunting  suit — that  old  deer- 
skin, you  remember — and  when  he  happens  to 
meet  with  a  crowd  of  us,  his  manners  are  per- 
fect. He  cannot  be  surprised  out  of  them." 

"All  of  our  young  men  can  do  that,  but — he 
fawns  upon  the  rich — Marie,  it  is  sickening," 
said  Annette,  disdainfully. 

"Ah,"  replied  Marie,  naively,  "I  have  not 
wealth,  so  have  not  been  made  to  suffer." 

Annette  laughed. 

"He  keeps  the  books  well  for  General  Edgar; 
he  is  good  in  business,  is  he  not,  Annette?" 

"That  goes  without  saying,"  said  her  friend. 
"But  that  cannot  make  me  like  him,  Marie. 
Good  business  habits  he  may  have  acquired,  but 
it  is  he  himself  that  is  distasteful  to  me." 


40  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"He  is  well  connected,"  ventured  Marie. 

"There  it  is.  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  merits 
of  his  family." 

"Oh,  Annette,  do  not  bite  so  this  morning." 
"What  a  lovely  pink!  See,  Annette,"  she 
called  out  in  glee.  They  were  passing  a  store 
where  the  merchant  was  holding  up  a  muslin  for 
the  inspection  of  a  customer. 

The  French  girls  and  women,  even  in  early 
times,  were  quick  to  follow  the  fashions  of  New 
Orleans,  or  even  of  France.  The  going  and 
coming  of  friends  was  the  medium  of  informa- 
tion. Elegant  dresses  were  not  entirely  unknown. 
In  after  days,  when  the  State  capital  was 
removed  to  Vandalia,  and  the  'Kaskia  ladies 
attended  the  balls  and  parties  of  the  season, 
they  were  long  remembered  for  their  gay  and 
rich  dress. 

"Marie,  did  I  hear  you  say  that  we  were  late?" 
teased  Annette. 

"Oui,  oui,"  said  Marie,  looking  regretfully 
after  the  pink  muslin.  "Come,  I  will  hurry, 
and  do  you,  Annette." 

By  this  time  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the 
general  traffic  of  the  place.  Different  national- 
ities were  represented,  mostly  French,  numbers 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  41 

of  English,  also  Americans,  and  some  Irish. 
Indians  came  for  supplies  all  the  way  from  the 
far  distant  Rocky  Mountains. 

They  passed  a  group  of  the  savages.  The 
warriors  wore  their  coarse  black  hair  in  braids 
on  either  side  of  their  faces;  feathers  stood  out 
from  their  heads  in  a  hideous,  grotesque  style. 
Beads  were  suspended  from  their  ears.  Black 
and  red  paint  ornamented  the  faces  of  one  or 
two.  The  squaws  were  equally  repulsive.  Dirty 
red  blankets  trailed  from  their  shoulders;  their 
legs  were  bare,  with  worn  moccasins  on  their  feet. 
A  pappoose  was  strapped  on  the  back  of  the  last 
one. 

"Our  Kaskaskia  Indians  are  much  beyond  these 
in  comparison,"  said  Marie,  with  a" grimace. 

"The  Jesuits  civilized  them  ages  ago  and 
taught  them  the  arts  of  the  white  man,"  replied 
Annette. 

"You  have  read  what  Father  Charlevoix  said 
in  1721,  almost  a  hundred  3'ears  ago?  He  spoke 
of  the  flourishing  Jesuit  mission  he  found  at 
'Kaskia,  and  of  the  ease  in  which  the  Indians 
lived.  He  wrote  of  their  industry,  and  that  they 
tilled  the  ground,  had  swine  and  black  cattle, 
even  raised  poultry.  The  women  spun  the  wool 


4:3  OLD  ' KASKIA  DAYS 

y 
I 

of  the  buffalo  into  threads  as  fine  as  those  made 
from  English  sheep,  and  even  dyed  the  stuff 
woven." 

"How  have  they  fallen  away,  then?"  asked 
Marie. 

"That  was  in  their  palmy  days.  First  an 
Indian  village,  then  a  Jesuit  mission,  afterwards 
a  trading  center,  and  now  to  what  does  'Kaskia 
aspire?" 

"To  be  State  capital,  of  course,"  responded 
Marie,  repeating  the  words  parrot-like. 

They  stopped  to  let  a  charette  cross  the  road 
— a  small  wooden  affair,  with  the  ponies  har- 
nessed one  in  front  of  the  other.  It  would  hold 
•  about  three  times  as  much  as  a  wheelbarrow  of 
to-day.  Many  shabby  uniforms  were  abroad, 
men  saving  expense  in  buying  old  stores  cheap, 
though  actual  service  had  been  seen  by  a  large 
number. 

Emigrants  poured  in  at  this  season  of  the 
year,  trying  to  secure  grants  to  "heads  of  fami- 
lies," and  government  bounties  had  claimants. 
The  country  was  now  rescued  from  Indian  depre- 
dations, and  settlers  were  founding  homes  in  the 
surrounding  section,  and  were  scattering  as  to 
locality. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  43 

The  early  colonists  clung  together,  partly 
through  a  sense  of  common  danger,  but  the 
French  instinct  was  to  cluster  for  social  pleasure, 
rather  than  live  in  the  isolation  of  a  farm-house. 
The  old  French  grants  of  so  many  "arpents" 
were  laid  off  in  narrow  strips,  all  running  toward 
the  river,  or  from  bluffs  to  river,  but  the  people 
lived  in  villages. 

As  they  passed  the  land  office,  Annette,  who 
had  been  in  a  brown  study  upon  these  questions, 
looked  around  and  said: 

"Now  this  is  what  I  spoke  of  yesterday,  Marie. 
I  like  not  the  queer  mixture  of  home-seekers." 

"Why  not?"  said  Marie.  "You  would  not 
grudge  them  homes  when  land  is  to  be  had 
almost  for  the  asking?" 

"No,  no.  I  do  not  mean, "she  said  quickly  at 
this  view  of  her  feeling — "not  that.  Let  them 
have  all  they  want — all,  all.  It  is  something 
else." 

Probably  she  could  not  have  defined  the  subtle 
feeling  to  herself,  but  it  was  the  externals  that 
grated  upon  her.  Elements  as  yet  were  not 
assorted  or  harmonious  with  existing  conditions. 

They  soon  arrived  at  their  destination — a 
house  built  with  the  favorite  outside  chimney, 


44  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

and  having  two  tiny  rectangular  windows  just 
under  the  gable.  The  extensive  grounds  fell 
toward  the  river  in  the  rear.  Bright  yellow 
dandelions  dotted  the  grassy  slope. 

"Gainckon  and  the  colt  are  in  for  the  day," 
said  Marie.  "See,  she  is  training  the  colt,  is  it 
not  so,  Annette?" 

They  paused  to  admire  the  free,  really  splendid 
movement  of  the  mother,  the  young  animal 
scampering  at  her  heels.  There  seemed  to  be 
something  of  a  definite  plan  on  the  part  of  the 
mother,  for  she  tried  again  and  again  the  same 
round. 

"The  promise  of  a  'Sleepy  Davie,'"  said  An- 
nette. 

"Bravo!" 

Miss  Somers,  the  English  lady,  appeared  at 
the  entrance.  They  opened  the  latch  of  the  gate 
and  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"Pardon,  Ma'm'selle,"  said  Marie.  "The  air 
this  spring  is  beguiling,  and  we  lag  sadly  on  the 
way." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SHUT  IN. 

THEY  were  ushered  into  a  room  occupied  by 
the  sweet  controlling  spirit  of  that  household, 
a  woman  whose  surroundings  at  once  appealed 
to  one's  inward  sense  of  approval. 

The  hangings  attached  to  the  high  "four- 
poster"  were  of  white  dimity  edged  with  lace. 
The  coverlid  and  pillows  were  spotless.  A  fresh 
gown,  hands  neatly  attended  to,  betokened 
watchful  and  loving  care  on  the  part  of  some  one. 

A  paralyzed,  helpless  left  arm  and  hand  lay 
at  her  side,  but  the  eager,  bright  eyes  showed 
that  the  mind  was  active  and  alert,  and  that 
outside  interests  were  not  forgotten  or  viewed 
with  indifference  by  Madame  Chartran,  shut  in 
these  twelve  years  past. 

"Bon  jour,  Madame." 

"Bon  jour,"  smiling  cordially. 

"How  is  the  health  of  Madame?"   asked  An- 
45 


46  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

nette,  turning  to  Miss  Somers,  who  stood  near 
the  bed. 

"This  is  one  of  her  comfortable  days,"  an- 
swered Miss  Somers  in  a  prim  way.  She  had 
been  a  governess  so  long  that  her  manners  had 
become  set  inconsequence  of  taking  the  charac- 
ter of  a  model  of  behavior,  which  goes  with  the 
position  as  a  necessary  qualification.  Naturally 
she  was  a  warm-hearted  woman,  and  not  a 
machine. 

"Now,1'  said  Miss  Somers,  "first  our  drawing 
lesson,  then  the  reading.  I  have  a  change  for 
you  to-day  in  the  books." 

Materials  were  placed  on  the  table,  and  the 
latter  was  drawn  into  a  good  light.  Miss  Somers 
placed  a  brown  earthen  pitcher,  containing  a 
spray  of  wild  flowers,  in  position  for  a  study, 

"Ma'm'selle,  are  we  not  soon  to  sketch  the 
church?  Did  you  not  advise  us  to  make  a  draw- 
ing before  the  church  was  torn  down?" 

"There  is  time,"  said  Madame  Chartran. 
"The  church  may  last  for  years.  Little  interest; 
slow  progress." 

"Some  say  if  a  new  church  is  built,  then  noth- 
ing less  than  a  convent  will  follow,  and  they 
shake  their  heads  at  that,  and  say,  'Too  much 
cost.'" 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  4? 

"Doubtless  that  will  follow — after  many  years," 
said  Miss  Somers  with  a  prim  little  smile. 

She  had  spent  but  a  year  with  her  sister,  but 
she  fully  realized  the  difference  in  methods  be- 
tween the  bustling  manufacturing  city  of  her 
birth  and  the  quiet,  sleepy  village  of  these  old- 
time  French.  There  was  money  enough,  but 
not  desire  sufficient,  as  yet,  for  the  innovation. 

"Ah,  but,"  said  Madame,  "a  more  active  spirit 
is  approaching.  There  is  talk  of  making  a  State 
of  the  Territory,  and  that  will  bring  more  people 
here.  Colonel  Menard  and  Shadrach  Bond,  Dr. 
Fisher,  young  Kane  and  Judge  Thomas  are  en- 
deavoring to  bring  this  about." 

"Not  all  will  come  to  us,  for  new  settlements 
will  spring  up  and  will  draw  away  from  our 
village,"  said  Marie. 

"Come  now,  it  is  time  for  the  reading,"  said 
Miss  Somers,  glancing  up  at  the  tall  clock  in  the 
corner. 

The  girls  were  curious  to  know  what  she  had 
in  store  for  them. 

"Last  week  a  box  from  England  came  by  way 
of  Vincennes,  and  some  of  my  books  that  I  had 
left  at  home  came  to  light  in  the  unpacking. 
Among  them  was  'Corinne'  in  the  original. 
Marie,  that  will  please  you." 


48  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"It  will  be  a  change  from  the  dry  history," 
said  Marie. 

"Madame  De  Stael  is  both  witty  and  wise.  I 
wish  you  to  hear  her  views  on  Italy  and  her 
descriptions  of  art.  We  will  read  some  extracts." 

"I  heard  papa  and  the  German  professor,  a 
long  time  ago,  commenting  on  Madame  de  Stael. 
They  said  she  had  all  the  powers  to  lead  in  con- 
versation," said  Annette. 

"So  she  had,  so  she  had.  You  have  heard  that 
the  Emperor  was  extremely  fond  of  her." 

"No,"  said  Marie  innocently,  "was  he?" 

Madame  Chartran  and  her  sister  laughed. 

"No,  child,"  said  Madame,  "he  disliked  and 
feared  her,  and  finally  sent  her  away  from 
France." 

"Poor  lady!  that  must  have  been  hard.  To 
have  to  leave  Paris,  alas!" 

"So,  Marie,  Paris  was  the  end  of  all  things  to 
be  desired  in  this  world?" 

"Then  perhaps  we  would  not  have  had 
'Corinne, '  but  she  liked  to  be  known  as  a  literary 
celebrity." 

"Sister,"  turning  her  eyes  upon  Miss  Somers, 
"I  have  heard  some  talk  of  her  marriage  to  M. 
de  Rocca.  Some  believed  it,  others  disputed  it." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  49 

"Mamma  wrote  home  in  one  of  her  letters  of 
the  gossip  going  around  in  regard  to  Madame  de 
Stael,  but  she  stated  not  as  to  the  truth  of  it." 

"Let  us  commence  the  reading,"  said  Miss 
Somers.  "We  chatter  more  than  we  read."- 

The  next  hour  was  spent  in  a  delightful  man- 
ner. Enchanting  descriptions  of  scenery,  palaces 
of  art,  the  customs  of  a  political  people,  eloquent 
remarks  upon  Italian  literature.  The  glowing 
and  fervid  language  fell  upon  deeply  interested 
listeners. 

After  the  reading  was  ended,  the  two  girls 
bade  adieu  to  Madame  and  her  sister,  and  took 
their  departure. 

"Madame  met  her  husband  in  Canada,  did  she 
not?"  asked  Marie. 

"Yes,"  said  Annette. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  PROSPECT. 

MONSIEUR  BEAUVAIS  rode  out  of  the  village  at 
a  slow  canter.  He  was  never  in  a  hurry,  for  he 
lacked  the  zeal  that  arises  from  a  deep-seated 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  life.  That  he  prospered 
was  more  on  account  of  his  being  a  part  of  the 
times  than  any  effort  put  forth  by  him. 

His  sturdy  pony  carried  him  along  a  trail  that 
led  past  the  lodges  from  which  he  had,  at  start- 
ing, noticed  the  rising  smoke.  A  lazy  indolence 
was  about  the  camp.  Some  of  the  squaws  were 
planting  corn  in  small  garden  patches. 

The  wheat  was  green  in  the  "common  fields." 
Large  numbers  of  cattle  were  grazing  on  the 
rich  prairie  grass  of  the  commons.  The  beauty 
of  the  early  spring  was  over  the  land  and  be- 
tween the  two  rivers.  The  mild  climate  and  ex- 
ceedingly rich  soil  produced  an  abundant  yield. 
Cotton,  corn,  hemp,  grains  and  European  fruits 

were  among  the  products. 

50 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  51 

Monsieur  Beauvais'  plantation  bordered  the 
Mississippi,  and  was  four  miles  from  the  village. 
As  he  proceeded  on  his  way  his  thoughts  turned 
away  from  the  past,  and  dwelt  upon  his  children. 

"Antoine  will  have  the  land,"  he  mused,  "and 
there  is  no  better  around  here.  I  have  provided 
for  that."  A  troubled  look  came  into  his  face  as 
an  ill-defined  foreboding  passed  over  him.  "He 
is  a  fine  fellow,  and  apparently  does  not  care  to 
accumulate.  I  have  not  set  him  the  example. 
But  increase  may  not  come  as  easily  to  the  next 
generation  as  to  this  one,  and  he  may  need  to 
exert  himself  more  to  hold  what  belongs  to  his 
share.  What  was  it  that  Seneca  said?  'He 
who  careth  not  for  riches  is  already  rich,'  or 
words  to  that  effect.  Bah!  that  would  do  for  him 
to  say,  prcedives  as  he  was.  He  could  not 
know  by  experience.  It  is  easy  for  one  to 
prescribe  another's  duty." 

An  amused  smile  played  about  his  lips  as  he 
remembered  a  remark  made  by  a  neighbor's 
daughter: 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Loisee,  "my  married  sister 
comes  home  and  says,  'Ta,  ta.  You  would  not 
leave  mamma  in  her  failing  health.  Why,  it  is 
your  duty  to  stay  with  her.'  'And,  pray,  why 


52  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

was  it  not  your  duty  to  stay?'  I  answer  grimly." 

"Now  that  reminds  me  of  Annette.  Provision 
should  be  made  for  her  settlement.  >  In  France," 
he  thought,  "if  her  angel  mother"— 

And  he  sighed.  "What  ought  one  to  do? 
Women  always  know  how  to  manage  such  things. 
Old  Rose  said  but  the  other  day: 

"'Monsieur,  time  Ma'm'selle  looking  'round/ 

"'Looking  around?' 

"'Yes,  lookin'  'round,  I  tell  you.  She  too 
highty,  Monsieur.  I  heah  de  young  men  say 
dat. ' 

"'There  is  time  yet,  Rose.'  But  Rose  shook 
her  head." 

Monsieur's  thoughts  were  in  an  unwonted 
channel,  and  in  such  a  deep  study  was  he  that 
he  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  hoofs  just  behind 
him. 

A  clear  voice  called  out:  "Bon  jour,  Mon- 
sieur." 

"Bon  jour,  Monsieur  Bond." 

"A  beautiful  morning  for  a>  ride,  sir." 

"Oui,"  responded  Monsieur  Beauvais,  "and 
how  is  your  health  and  that  of  your  family?" 

"Quite  well,  I  am  pleased  to  say,"  answered 
Shadrach  Bond.  A  man  very  popular,  a  pioneer 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  53 

of  great  and  noble  talents.  The  following  year 
he  was  elected  Governor  of  the  new  State.  He 
possessed  a  striking  face,  clear-cut  features,  a 
fine  forehead,  a  long,  aquiline  nose,  a  mouth 
whose  lips  could  curl  in  haughty  disdain,  if  the 
occasion  required. 

"You  are  well,  and  your  daughter,  the  hand- 
some Ma'm'selle?" 

"I  thank  you,  yes." 

"The  young  Annette  is  fast  being  transformed 
into  an  attractive  woman,  Monsieur." 

"Yes,"  said  Monsieur  Beauvais,  frowning 
slightly. 

"I  hear  that  Antoine  desires  to  go  down  with 
the  next  cargo.  Is  that  true,  Monsieur?" 

"He  wishes  it,  but  I  have  not  yet  made  my 
decision.  Antoine  is  a  good  son,  but  the  journey 
takes  much  time.  Town  life  is  not  the  thing 
for  a  country-grown  lad  like  Antoine,  Monsieur' 
Bond,  but  he  begs  hard  for  it." 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Shadrach  Bond,  "youth  longs 
for  change,  and  a  man  must  see  something  of 
the  world,  if  the  world  is  a  wilderness.  More 
will  be  expected  of  the  youth  of  the  next  gener- 
ation. These  are  changing  times."  And  his 
eyes  brightened  as  he  continued:  "It  will  not 


54  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

be  long  before  we  rejoice  in  the  honor  of  a 
State,  and  what  a  glorious  State  will  our  Illinois 
Territory  become!  Think  of  her  resources,  of 
the  homes  that  are  to  be,  as  these  prairies  are 
rilled  by  those  needing  and  seeking  homes. 
The  abundance  that  the  land  brings  forth  will 
feed  thousands.  She  will  be  an  illustration  of 
the  line  that  'Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes 
its  march.'"  His  countenance  beamed  with  en- 
thusiasm, and  he  unconsciously  drew  himself  up 
as  this  vision  appeared  before  his  mind. 

"Oh,"  said  Monsieur  Beauvais,  pettishly,  "are 
we  not  well  enough  as  we  are?  The  villagers 
lead  such  peaceful,  happy  lives.  We  have  sum- 
cient  for  our  wants,  and  these  strangers  coming 
in  will  only  annoy  and  confuse  us.  I  for  one 
think  that  it  is  too  soon  to  advance  such  ideas. 
There  is  time  for  that  in  the  future." 

Shadrach  Bond  looked  at  him  curiously,  but 
he  remembered  Monsieur's  habits  of  life;  that 
he  could  not  bear  any  disturbance  in  the  usual 
routine — the  breakfast,  assorting  his  papers  and 
simple  accounts,  a  little  exercise  in  the  garden, 
a  book,  an  early  dinner,  a  nap,  a  chat  with  a 
neighbor,  a  walk  by  the  river  in  season. 

"A  man   of  another  age  and  country,  not  of 


OLD  -KASKIA  DAYS  55 

ours,"  thought  Shadrach  Bond.  "The  time  is 
approaching,  whether  we  seek  it  or  not. "he  said 
gravely.  "I,  on  the  other  hand,  am  most  anx- 
ious to  bring  about  this  very  thing.  I  am  on  my 
way  to  Dr.'  Fisher  to  consult  with  him  on  this 
question,  and  hear  his  counsel.  His  ideas  are 
excellent,  and  he  is  a  power  to  be  sought,  and 
held  on  the  right  side.  Here  is  the  turning-off 
place  to  Dr.  Fisher's  settlement.  Good-day, 
Monsieur."  And  he  touched  his  spirited  horse 
and  galloped  away. 

"Monsieur  Bond  has  great  feelings,"  mused  M. 
Beauvais,  "but  why  can  he  not  be  content  to  let 
matters  remain  as  they  are?  I  am  quite  in  a 
flutter  at  the  thought  of  such  change.  I  cannot 
compose  myself."  And  he  endeavored  to  turn 
his  thoughts  to  other  matters. 

When  he  was  disturbed,  certain  sensations 
would  pass  over  him,  and  a  queer  waving  in  the 
head  would  trouble  him  for  a  short  time.  But 
as  he  neared  his  plantation  he  became  more 
cheerful.  The  place  was  well  kept.  The  fields 
were  in  corn.  Large  herds  of  cattle  were  grazing. 
In  the  winter  they  would  be  driven  into  the 
canebrakes  to  fatten. 

"Henri  must  get  out  the  rest  of  the  hides  and 


56  OLD  "KASKIA  DAYS 

have  them  ready  for  the  boats,"  he  thought. 
"Henri,  Henri,"  he  called  as  he  rode  up  to  the 
door  of  a  log  cabin. 

Henri  was  seated  on  a  log  cutting  potatoes  for 
early  planting.  The  old  Frenchman,  whose 
smooth  face  was  as  brown  as  an  Indian's,  arose 
and  came  forward. 

"Are  you  getting  along  with  the  work,  Henri?" 

"Oui,  oui,  Monsieur." 

"The  corn  is  in  the  ground  early.  The  garden 
does  well.  And  how  is  Therese?" 

"In  good  health,  I  thank  you." 

"Take  the  pony  out  to  a  stable  while  I  stay," 
said  Monsieur  Beauvais  to  a  round-faced  lad  that 
came  from  the  stable. 

This  was  young  Henri,  who  was  all  devotion 
to  Antoine,  and  who  was  his  faithful  shadow 
when  Antoine  came  over  for  a  hunt  or  a  tramp. 
In  the  fall  they  had  great  sport  on  the  island, 
hunting  wild  ducks.  Henri  was  disappointed 
when  he  saw  that  Monsieur  was  alone. 

Monsieur  Beauvais  went  with  Henri  to  inspect 
a  young  orchard  at  the  back  of  the  cabin. 
Henri  explained  the  process  of  planting,  which 
he  thought  was  just  right  because  that  was  the 
way  the  trees  were  set  out  when  he  lived  with 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  57 

Colonel  Menard.      However,  Monsieur  Beauvais 
was  not  hard  to  please. 

"It  is  all  very  well  done,  very  well,   indeed." 

After  he.  had  given  his  orders  for  a  shipment, 
M.  Beauvais  returned  to  the  cabin  for  a  cup  of 
black  coffee  before  starting  on  the  return  ride. 
The  April  sun  was  pleasant;  the  bees  were  hum- 
ming. He  leaned  back  against  the  house  with 
an  air  of  contentment.  As  to  whether  the 
Illinois  country  was  a  State  or  Territory,  just 
then,  was  matter  of  little  moment  to  him. 

Henri,  the  lad  with  the  good-natured  face, 
asked  him  respectfully:  "Will  Antoine  be  over 
soon,  Monsieur?" 

"Antoine  has  wild  thoughts  in  his  head.  He 
wants  to  go  down  on  the  bateau  this  voyage." 

Young  Henri  looked  disappointed.  "May  I 
go  too,  Monsieur?"  he  said,  lifting  large,  expec- 
tant eyes  to  the  other. 

Monsieur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "For  why? 
You  are  all  needed  on  the  plantation.  It  can- 
not be,"  he  answered  indifferently. 

He  did  not  see  the  look  of  resolution  that 
passed  over  the  face  of  the  boy,  who  inwardly 
resolved  that  if  Antoine  went  down  the  river, 
he,  Henri,  would  be  with  him. 


58  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Presently  Monsieur  called  for  his  pony,  and 
started  for  old  'Kaskia  at  the  same  gentle  pace 
with  which  he  had  left  in  the  morning. 

"What  was  the  boy  thinking  of  to  ask  me 
such  a  question?  What  with  men  carried  away 
by  politics,  and  the  youth  wanting  to  leave,  the 
country  is  going  to  ruin.  It  wasn't  so  when  I 
was  young.  I  cannot  reason  with  Antoine  and 
persuade  him  out  of  this  foolish  notion.  Henri 
too!"  And  Monsieur  Beauvais  laughed  at  the 
thought. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   GALLERY. 

THAT  evening  Annette  and  Papa  Beauvais  were 
sitting  on  the  long  gallery  that  extended  around 
the  entire  front  of  the  house.  The  air  was  mild, 
the  sun  fairly  down,  but  with  a  yellow  haze  to 
cover  its  retreat.  Annette  was  at  one  end, 
where  a  climbing  rose  covered  a  framework  built 
for  its  support.  She  was  idly  picking  the  green 
leaves  to  pieces.  Papa  Beauvais  had  given  the 
details  of  his  ride,  and  had  expressed  his  satis- 
faction with  Henri  and  his  management  of  the 
plantation.  Antoine  had  gone  to  the  river. 
Annette's  attention  was  aroused  by  some  one 
entering  the  gate.  The  horseman  of  the  previous 
day  came  smiling  up  the  walk. 

Annette's  listlessness  was  gone.  Greetings 
were  exchanged,  and  a  lively  conversation  en- 
sued. 

"You   still  wear  your  scalp,   Monsieur,"  said 

Annette  gayly. 

59 


60  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Oui,  Ma'm'selle,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme, 
laying  his  hand  on  his  dark,  wavy  hair. 

"How  far  did  you  ride ?"  asked  Papa  Beauvais. 

"  A  great  distance,  Monsieur,  as  far  as  the  Sac 
and  Fox  country." 

"Annette,  you  dislike  the  new-comers.  Listen 
to  this  story."  And  Monsieur  laughed. 

"Go  on,"  said  Annette 

"The  Sac  village  is  on  Rock  River,  and  the 
Fox  village  on  the  Mississippi,  nearly  opposite 
the  island.  Their  Good  Spirit  was  as  white  as 
the  driven  snow.  Its  voice  was  as  the  sweetest 
music.  Its  wings  were  compared  to  the  swan, 
but  larger  in  size.  Its  home  was  among  the 
rocks,  in  a  cavern  that  no  one  dared  to  approach. 
On  no  account  would  any  Indian  trespass  on 
ground  that  was  sacred  to  its  habitation.  Hence 
the  cavern  was  never  disturbed.  At  rare  inter- 
vals would  this  wonderful  spirit  make  its  appear- 
ance. It  was  sent  by  the  Great  Spirit  to  guide 
the  Sac  and  Fox  Indians  in  the  management  of 
their  affairs.  The  delight  of  this  spirit  was  in 
goodness.  But  the  advent  of  the  Americans  so 
grieved  it  that,  flying  off,  it  returned  to  them 
again  never  more." 

"The  idea  is  an  old  one.     We  wish  to  fly  from 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  61 

sorrow  or  what  pains  and  grieves  us,"  said  Papa 
Beauvais. 

"Oui."  The  younger  man  assented  to  the 
remark  with  a  sigh,  and  unconsciously  his  glance 
sought  that  of  Annette  and  held  her  for  a 
moment.  Monsieur  St.  Gemme's  eyes  could 
grow  tender  with  feeling.  Then,  as  if  to  banish 
what  had  been  the  fleeting  thought,  he  said, 
lightly: 

"Nevertheless  these  Americans  are  infusing 
new  life  and  spirit  into  the  territory.  Com- 
merce is  widening.  Our  sleepy  French  ways 
are  being  left  behind.  Our  Indian  trade  is  ex- 
tending and  making  us  rich.  St.  Louis  is  having 
her  share.  She  is  a  formidable  rival  to  us,  Mon- 
sieur." 

"We  have  much  the  start,"  he  said  conde- 
scendingly. "Where  is  Antoine?" 

"Ah,  there  he  is!  The  youth  is  bent  on  a  voy- 
age. Are  you  to  go?" 

"It  may  be.      The  plans  are  not  all  made." 

"What  does  Josephine  say  to  these  frequent 
absences  on  your  part?"  inquired  Annette. 

"She  says  that  it  is  equal  to  being  a  widow, 
and  that  she  is  even  now  looking  out  for  my 
successor,"  he  answered  jestingly. 


62  OLD  ^KASKIA  DAYS 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  had  been  a  constant 
visitor  to  the  house  for  a  number  of  years.  Mon- 
sieur Beauvais  had  taken  a  fancy  to  the  young 
man's  company. 

St.  Gemme  possessed  a  great  deal  of  tact. 
His  nature  was  one  on  which  a  weaker  nature 
would  rely.  For  one  of  his  age  he  was  a  good 
judge  of  other  men.  Important  business  was 
intrusted  to  his  care,  and  he  was  usually  suc- 
cessful in  its  transaction. 

He  had  married  into  a  wealthy  family.  It 
was  one  of  those  matches  arranged  according  to 
the  French  custom,  in  which  the  parents  made 
the  choice  and  all  arrangements  in  the  contract. 
Monsieur  St.  Gemme  had  been  a  kind  husband, 
and  Josephine  apparently  was  a  contented  wife, 
and  doubtless  a  happy  one.  Her  two  children 
filled  her  life  so  completely  that  all  other  inter- 
ests were  but  secondary  matters. 

"I  wish  you  to  influence  Antoine  to  remain  at 
home.  I  like  not  the  idea  of  his  going." 

"I  will  try,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 

Antoine  and  Baptiste  came  up  the  street  just 
then.  They  joined  the  group  on  the  gallery, 
and  the  conversation  became  general. 

Ere  long  Baptiste  seated  himself  on  the  bench 
by  the  side  of  Annette. 


OLD  ^KASKIA  DAYS  63 

She  felt  annoyed,  but  was  too  polite  to  show 
it. 

"Annette,"  said  he,  looking  at  her  with  bold 
admiration.  (A  dull  flush  came  into  her  face, 
and  her  eyes  flashed).  "Do  you  remember  the 
rose  that  you  gave  me  from  this  bush  last  year? 
I  have  it  yet." 

"Have  you?"  She  was  very  indifferent  to  his 
remarks.  She  had  not  in  fact  given  the  rose  to 
him.  He  had  picked  it  up  and  asked  her  per- 
mission to  retain  it. 

"That  is  one  year  ago,"  he  repeated  softly. 
"You  have  changed  much  in  that  time." 

"Ah,  you  mistake,  I  am  just  the  same,"  she 
said,  accenting  slightly  the  last  of  her  sentence. 

"I  mean  that  you  are  growing  handsome,"  he 
said  quickly. 

"Baptiste,  do  not  say  such  things  to  me.  I 
like  them  not." 

"A  young  ma'rn'selle,  and  she  is  not  to  hear 
of  her  beauty.  I  have  had  other  experience 
than  that.  Annette.  Annette,"  he  said  under 
cover  of  the  conversation  of  the  others,  "why 
am  I  so  disagreeable  to  you?  Your  manner 
would  imply  that  I  have  no  right  to  live,  that  I 
incumber  the  ground." 


64  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"If  you  judge  that  to  be  my  thought,  why  do 
you  persist  in  saying  those  things  that  are  not 
welcome  to  me?" 

"Why  does  the  flower  turn  toward  the  sun? 
Why  does  the  bee  seek  the  flower?  Are  we 
responsible  for  the  interest  that  leads  us  to  that 
which  attracts  beyond  all  else  ??1  he  said  fervently. 

"Baptiste,  can  you  not,  will  you  not  under- 
stand?" she  began. 

But  suddenly  he  began  to  talk  of  other  subjects. 
The  next  ball — would  she  be  there?  He  did 
not  know  whether  they  would  make  another 
"King's  ball"  of  it  or  not.  The  matter  was  not 
decided. 

"Is  it  not  too  bad  that  Antoine  will  miss  this 
one  ?" 

"Papa  has  not  yet  given  his  consent  to  An- 
toine, and  he  seems  very  reluctant  to  do  so," 
said  Annette. 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  arose  to  go.  Annette 
made  this  an  excuse  for  leaving  Baptiste. 

"Can  you  make  a  straight  line  yet?  How  do 
the  lessons  progress  under  the  Ma'm'selle?" 

"Ma'm'selle  is  very  kind." 

"Do  not  spoil  your  lovely  eyes  over  that  sort 
of  study,  Annette.  It  is  not  worth  it." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  65 

"We  do  not  apply  ourselves  to  that  extent," 
laughed  Annette.  "I  fear  that  it  is  only  pastime 
with  us,  and  that  we  have  not  the  true  leaning 
toward  art." 

"I  bid  you  good  night,  Ma'm'selle." 

"Good  night,  Monsieur." 

After  taking  a  courteous  leave  of  the  others, 
he  started  down  the  street  with  a  quick,  spring- 
ing step. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"A  mixture  of  books,  education  and  backwoods  activity  pro- 
duces the  greatest  of  men." — Reynolds'  Pioneer  History  of  Illi- 
nois. 

SHADRACH  BOND,  after  leaving  Monsieur  Beau- 
vais,  kept  his  horse  to  a  brisk  canter.  He  was 
a  man  of  superior  judgment,  and  much  practical 
knowledge  of  the  motives  that  are  the  springs  of 
human  action.  This  insight  into  character  was 
of  service  to  him  in  various  positions  of  trust 
which  he  filled  when  working  for  the  interests  of 
the  people.  An  act  of  Congress  giving  the 
people  the  right  of  pre-emption  as  settlers  was 
due  to  his  exertions,  and  he  deserved  the  grati- 
tude of  all  that  section  of  country  in  consequence. 
This  act  was  passed  in  1813.  The  way  was  thus 
opened  to  emigration,  and  the  public  lands 
placed  upon  the  market.  Bond  had  been  elected 
the  first  Delegate  from  the  Territory  to  Con- 
gress. It  was  thought  that  he  would  be  chosen 
the  first  Governor,  as  the  confidence  and  affec- 
tion of  the  people  were  his. 

66 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  67 

In  person  he  was  tall;  his  bearing  was  dignified 
and  commanding.  The  ride  on  this  bright  morn- 
ing was  exhilarating  to  one  whose  activity  of 
mind  and  body  needed  some  outlet  to  energy. 

In  a  short  time  he  arrived  at  Dr.  Fisher's  set- 
tlement, which  was  near  the  bluffs  about  six 
miles  above  Kaskaskia. 

Dr.  Fisher  was  Speaker  of  the  House  in  the 
Territorial  government. 

"Ah,  Bond,"  called  the  Doctor  on  his  approach. 
"A  fine  day." 

"Good  morning,  Doctor." 

"What  news  have  you,  Bond?" 

"I  saw  the  persons  to  whom  you  referred. 
Everything  is  doing  well  in  that  quarter.  Na- 
thaniel Pope  is  making  his  arrangements  to  push 
the  matter  before  the  House  next  session." 

"He  certainly  has  our  interests  enough  at 
heart  to  do  his  best." 

"The  question  is  this,  will  Congress  pass  the 
act  to  call  the  convention?" 

"That  is  coming.  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it," 
said  Fisher  earnestly.  "And  within  a  year,  I 
prophesy.  What  is  the  prevalent  idea  with  re- 
spect to  the  Constitution?" 

"I  do  not  know.     All   want  a  Constitution," 


68  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

said  Shadrach  Bond.  "I  met  a  conservative 
Frenchman  on  the  way — Monsieur  Beauvais. 
He  would  not  favor  any  change  from  existing 
conditions.  But  you  and  I  realize  that  a  future 
is  to  be  provided  for,  the  emergencies  of  which 
must  be  met." 

"Yes,  and  a  grand  future.  See  how  this 
country  is  filling  up  the  past  three  years. 

An  organization  to  secure  equal  rights  to 
individuals  and  to  protect  their  privileges  is 
required.  It  is  high  time  we  were  wheeling  into 
line  with  the  rest  of  the  States.  The  dignity  of 
our  growing  population  demands  recognition." 

Dr.  Fisher  was  leaning  against  a  corner  of 
the  block  house. 

"Times  have  changed  since  that  was  built," 
said  Bond  significantly. 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Fisher,  "that  represents  a 
rapidly  vanishing  past." 

Both  men  gazed  upon  the  building  in  silent 
thought.  It  was  a  story  and  a  half  high,  built 
of  great,  strong  logs.  Portholes  were  in  the 
lower  story  for  shooting  through.  The  heavy 
puncheon  door  stood  wide  open.  Formerly  it 
had  been  provided  with  thick  bars  to  keep  out 
the  Indians.  The  second  story  projected  over 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  69 

the  lower  about  four  feet.  This  also  had  tyoles 
in  the  floor  projecting  beyond  the  lower  part, 
through  which  the  pioneer  could  shoot  down 
upon  Indians  trying  to  force  an  entrance.  The 
remains  of  a  stockade  extended  a  short  distance 
beyond  the  corners. 

"Yes,  these  were  the  bulwarks  of  the  frontier, 
and  but  for  them  none  would  be  left  to  discuss 
the  advantages  to  be  gained  in  the  transition 
from  Territory  to  State." 

There  was  a  curious  mixture  on  trie  Doctor's 
premises.  The  dwellings  were  comfortable,  but 
there  were  other  structures  that  had  been  used 
as  a  small-pox  hospital  in  1801.  Two  or  three 
cases  had  been  brought  from  "Pain  Court"  (St. 
Louis).  The  village  had  been  put  in  quarantine, 
but  nearly  the  whple  population  had  passed 
through  the  scourge  under  Dr.  Fisher's  care. 

"The  Territorial  legislature  will  meet  on  the 
fifth  of  December,"  said  Bond. 

"In  the  case  of  the  Governors  and  Lieutenant 
Governors  men  desire  that  these  should  be 
elected  by  the  people." 

"They  also  favor  a  single  term  of  office  for 
Governor,  and  that  he  shall  not  be  eligible  to 
re-election.  The  viva  voce  method  of  voting  is 
the  popular  idea." 


70  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"The  judges  of  the  inferior  courts  are  to  hold 
office  during  good  behavior,"  said  Fisher. 

"I  know  of  some  who  will  go  out  of  office 
then,"  replied  Bond,  laughing  as  he  took  his 
departure. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MEMORIES. 

OLD  ROSE  and  Annette  were  in  a  great  flutter. 
Antoine  was  to  leave  on  the  following  day.  The 
hesitation  and  objection  of  Monsieur  Beauvais 
had  been  talked  down,  discussed,  brought  up 
again,  reviewed,  and  in  the  end  overcome. 

Francis  Menard  promised  to  take  Antoine  in 
his  charge.  Every  one  knew  what  Menard  was 
a  natural  voyageur,  brave,  daring  almost  to  reck- 
lessness. A  storm  that  would  frighten  other 
men,  and  cause  them  to  run  in  to  shore,  he 
would  utilize  to  carrty  him  that  much  farther  on 
his  way  and  save  thereby  much  wearisome  labor. 
His  men  had  every  confidence  in  his  skill,  and 
would  follow  him  to  any  length,  and  he  invaria- 
bly brought  them  safely  out  of  an  adventure. 

To  Antoine,  simple  villager  as  he  was,  who 
had  never  been  more  than  a  score  of  miles  away 
from  home,  the  prospect  was  exciting,  and  in 

anticipation  of  the  new  and  unusual  scenes  await- 

71 


72  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

ing  him  his  spirits    were  at    the    highest  pitch. 

"Annette,  do  not  forget  the  music  and  the 
'vi'lin,'  as  old  Rose  has  it." 

"Antoine,  you  will  not  have  the  need  of  these 
while  gone." 

"Why  not?  At  full  moon,  as  we  glide  over 
the  sparkling  water,  what  would  my  soul  desire 
more  than  the  companionship  of  music?  The 
red  man  will  start  from  his  dreams  in  the 
wigwam  on  the  shore,  and  think  that  the 
Great  Spirit  is  calling  him,  as  a  seeming  strain 
from  the  mighty  hunting  ground  is  heard  across 
the  water." 

"The  instrument  will  be  in  your  way.  You 
will  forget  it  in  the  town.  What  shall  I  do, 
both  gone?" 

"Ah,  that  is  even  so.  I  will  not  deprive  you 
of  the  music.  You  would  miss  that  more  than 
Antoine." 

"Ah,  no,  it  is  you  that  I  shall  sadly  miss." 
And  her  beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the 
thought  of  the  long  separation. 

Hardly  a  day  had  passed  that  they  had  not 
seen  one  another.  Their  earliest  recollections 
were  of  wandering  hand  in  hand  over  the  "com- 
mons," searching  for  wild  flowers — two  mother- 
less children. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  73 

"Do  you  remember  this  picture,  Antoine?"  said 
Annette.  It  was  a  miniature  of  Marie  and 
herself. 

Antoine  gazed  upon  it  fondly.  "I  would  not 
take  anything  for  it." 

"Frazine  always  told  me  I  must  have  one 
taken  if  the  chance  ever  occurred  to  me." 

"Do  you  remember  when  the  Indians  scared 
us  so?"  resumed  Annette. 

"I  do,  Annette,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "Your 
two  eyes  were  like  saucers,  and  your  teeth  chat- 
tered until  I  thought  they  would  drop  out." 

"You  were  the  same,"  she  retorted. 

"I  can  see  Risden  now,  stretched  out  full 
length  before  the  great  chimney.  Frazine  was 
telling  you  a  story." 

Risden  and  Frazine  were  two  young  darkies, 
brother  and  sister,  that  Monsieur  had  secured 
by  indenture.  Frazine  was  nurse  to  Annette 
after  the  death  of  the  French  Babette. 

"Yes,  and  a  wild  whoop  made  us  jump  to  our 
feet,  and  I  began  to  cry, "said  Annette. 

"The  biggest  one  pounded  on  the  door  and 
asked  for  some  coals." 

"How  angry  he  was  when  the  door  was  not 
opened.  They  all  yelled  and'danced  about  the 
house." 


74  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"They  were  from  the  Rockies." 

"Papa  was  away  with  Joseph  Buyatte;  he 
had  the  fever." 

"And  the  neighbors  were  gone  to  the  ball." 

"Frazine  told  me  to  run  and  hide,  or  the  In- 
dians would  get  me  sure  and  carry  me  off." 

"You  ran  and  hid  under  the  bed  up-stairs. 
What  then,  Annette?" 

"I  was  nearly  dead  with  fright.  I  said  ten 
Ave  Marias  as  fast  as  I  could." 

'  "They  knew  we  were  afraid  of  them,  so  they 
kept  up  the  din  a  great  while,"  said  Antoine. 
"Every  time  the  fire  threw  a  black  shadow  on 
the  wall,  I  thought  it  was  a  big  Indian  ready  to 
clutch  me.  What  hard  times  children  have. 
They  suffer  so  with  fright,  and  grown  people  do 
not  realize  their  terror." 

"Do  you  remember  Frazine's  favorite  way  of 
getting  us  quiet,  so  that  she  could  go  off  and 
have  a  good  frolic  with  the  slaves?  She  would 
put  us  to  bed  and  tell  us  to  cover  our  heads,  and 
that  if  we  stirred  Rawbones  and  Bloody  Head 
would  get  us.  And  there  we  would  be,  paralyzed 
in  our  terror,  and  keep  as  still  as  mice." 

"Yes,  and  to  keep  us  from  telling  papa,  she 
would  say  you  must  never  speak  the  name,  or 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  75 

this  terrible  creature  would  come  for  us  that 
night." 

Antoine  drew  down  his  face  and  looked  so 
lugubrious  that  Annette  laughed  heartily. 

"Frazine  and  Risden  did  fight  like  savages. 
Papa  grew  tired  of  their  fussing,  and  so,  one 
day,  he  brought  home  switches  of  the  water- 
willows,  and  gave  one  to  Risden  and  one  to 
Frazine,  and  kept  one  in  his  own  hand.  'Now,' 
he  said,  'this  must  end.  You,  Risden,  are  to 
whip  Frazine;  you,  Frazine,  are  to  whip  Risden. 
Get  at  it  as  fast  as  you  can,  or  I  will  whip  the 
one  that  lags. '  I  shall  never  forget  that  day. 
I  thought  papa  was  a  hard,  hard  man.  When- 
ever Risden  would  strike  Frazine  with  the  whip 
I  would  scream  as  lustily  as  I  could.  I  loved 
Frazine,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  have  her  hurt. 
I  screamed  aloud  and  ran  to  her,  and  threw  my 
arms  about  her,  so  that  papa  had  to  desist. 
But  that  was  the  last  of  their  quarrels  for  a  few 
weeks.  Papa  sent  Frazine  away  afterwards. 
Frazine  told  me  that  God  Would  give  me  any- 
thing that  I  would  pray  for.  I  used  to  go  off  by 
myself  and  pray  that  God  would  send  me  my 
mamma." 

"That  was  something  she   heard   in   Virginia, 


70  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

before  she  was  brought  to  'Kaskia,"said  Antoine. 

A  wistful  look  was  in  Annette's  eyes  as  she 
spoke  of  the  "pretty  mamma"  her  baby  lips  had 
called  after  Frazine — a  sense  of  something  missed 
—  an  experience  that  belonged  to  the  life  of  other 
girls,  but  which  she  herself  would  never  know. 

"Come,  Annette,  you  must  not  be  sad  on  this, 
my  last  day." 

"No,  I  must  be  gay,"  she  said  in  a  brighter 
tone,  but  she  felt  a  deep  foreboding  at  this 
break  in  their  family  circle. 

They  went  out  to  the  kitchen,  where  black 
Rose  was  in  the  act  of  hanging  a  pot  on  the  end 
of  the  crane.  The  blazing  coals  brought  out 
the  drops  of  perspiration  on  her  forehead. 

"Who  dere?"  she  said,  turning  to  look  at  the 
brother  and  sister  as  they  entered.  "Yougwine 
to  leave  old  Rose,  for  sure.  Not  much  use 
frizzing  over  the  cookin'  when  you  gone,  Antoine. 
Monsieur  don't  eat  nuffin,  and  Ma'm'selle  picks 
like  de  little  robin." 

"What  shall  I  bring  Rose?  A  new  apron,  or 
a  pair  of  satin  slippers?" 

"Go  along  wid  your  satin  slippers.  Dem  old 
moccasins  good  enough  for  Rose  any  day,"  hold- 
ing up  one  foot,  with  a  big  hole  in  the  moccasin. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  77 

"Soon  be  de  hot  weather.  Don'  need  nothin' 
but  nature's  dressin'  on  me  foot  den,"  she  said, 
grinning  and  chuckling,  her  eyes  snapping  and 
blinking  as  she  shook  her  head.  "Antoine,  you 
be  a  good  chile,  and  don't  get  no  bad  ways  off 
der.  You  heah?" 

"Not  I,  Rose,"  said  Antoine,  and  made  her  a 
mock  bow,  as  he  left. 

"Dat  boy  'pears  like  he  a  perfect  gem'man. 
Always  so  perlite.  But  I  dun  know  what  Mon- 
sieur tinking  of  to  let  him  go  away  by  hisself. 
'Pears  to  Rose  dat  it's  not  a  good  ting,  some- 
how. But  here  comes  dat  Monsieur  St.  Gemme 
and  dat  impudent  Jule,  both  on  dem  'p'int 
ponies. '  "* 

"Ah,  Rose,  good  morning;  brewing  for  din- 
ner?" said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  as  a  savory 
odor  greeted  him  from  the  kitchen. 

"Making  bouillon,  Monsieur.     Hab  some?" 

"Not  just  now,  Rose.  Is  Monsieur  Beauvais 
at  home?" 

As  Monsieur  St.  Gemme  disappeared  around 
the  corner  Jule  commenced  to  worry  Rose  with 
his  French. 

*  Ponies  caught  in  the  point  from  the  herd  of  wild  horses 
that  had  escaped  from  the  French,  and  had  there  multiplied. 
These  ponies  had  great  endurance. 


78  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Yi,  yi,"  muttered  Rose,  turning  her  back  to 
the  smiling  Jule. 

"Say,  Rose,  get  bouillon  for  Jule?" 

"You,  Jule!  I's  nothing  for  the  likes  of  you," 
she  said,  sniffing  contemptuously,  and,  com- 
pletely ignoring  him,  she  set  about  her  work. 

"Ah,"  said  Monsieur,  coming  out  from  his 
garden,  and  greeting  his  guest,  "I  shall  have 
early  peas  in  two  weeks." 

"I  congratulate  you.  Has  Antoine  his  prepar- 
ation completed?  Francis  Menard  tells  me  that 
the  bateau  will  start  at  the  break  of  day." 

"How  long  the  absence  this  time?" 

"It  will  require  at  least  six  months  for  the 
voyage." 

"So  long?  Well,  I  must  make  up  my  mind 
not  to  fret.  Come  in,  come  in."  And,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  led  the  way. 

Monsieur  Beauvais  offered  the  visitor  some 
light  wine  that  was  in  the  decanter  on  the  side- 
board. As  he  reached  out  his  arm  to  hand  the 
glass  to  Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  all  at  once  his 
head  swam,  a  great  dizziness  overcame  him,  and 
he  appeared  about  to  fall. 

The  younger  man  sprang  to  his  side  instantly, 
in  great  surprise,  as  he  had  never  seen  Monsieur 
Beauvais  so  afflicted. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  79 

"What  can  I  do?"  he  began  to  say,  but  con- 
sciousness returned  to  Monsieur  Beauvais,  and 
with  it  a  slow  realization  of  the  attack.  A  look 
of  consternation  crossed  the  old  man's  face.  He 
drew  back  with  a  feeble  motion,  and  said  indis- 
tinctly: 

"It  is  nothing;   pray  do  not  notice.     Stooping 
in  the  garden,  and  the   sun   was   overpowering 
Some  wine,  please." 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  poured  out  a  glass  of 
vin  de  Bordeaux  for  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Monsieur  Beauvais  seemed  to  be  himself  again. 

"I  beg  of  you,  Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  say 
nothing  of  this  to  my  children.  Antoine  must 
not  be  disappointed  at  this  late  hour,  and  An- 
nette must  not  be  worried,"  he  added  in  a  lower 
voice. 

After  a  discussion  of  Monsieur  Beauvais' 
plan  for  Antoine  in  regard  to  the  estate,  Mon- 
sieur St.  Gemme,  politely  expressing  his  wish 
for  his  friend's  restored  health,  departed. 

Monsieur  Beauvais  went  to  his  own  apart- 
ment, and,  going  to  his  desk  in  one  corner,  he 
opened  a  small  drawer,  taking  therefrom  a  tiny 
case,  inclosing  a  miniature  painted  on  ivory. 
It  was  the  face  of  his  never  forgotten  and  dearly 
beloved  young  wife. 


80  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

"The  time  is  drawing  nearer.  No  more  part- 
ing or  sorrow  over  there." 

After  gazing  long  at  the  beautiful  countenance, 
he  reverently  placed  the  case  in  the  drawer  and 
locked  it. 

He  lay  down  upon  his  couch,  and,  falling 
asleep,  he  did  not  appear  for  dinner — a  most 
unheard-of  thing. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LES  VOYAGEURS. 

THE  next  morning  at  daylight  a  group  of  men 
might  have  been  seen  wending  their  way  from 
the  church  toward  the  river.  They  had  been  to 
early  mass.  Francis  Menard's  invariable  custom 
was  to  have  mass  said  at  the  beginning  and  end 
of  each  voyage. 

Rose  had  arisen  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night 
in  order  that  Antoine  should  have  his  wants  sup- 
plied. Antoine  would  meet  the  others  at  the 
bateau.  He  hardly  swallowed  the  breakfast  that 
Rose  had  provided,  which  consisted  of  bread  in 
the  form  of  a  johnny  cake  that  had  been  baked 
on  a  board  placed  before  the  hot  coals,  a  cup  of 
black  coffee,  and  a  slice  of  bacon. 

Antoine  had  bidden  farewell  to  Monsieur 
Beauvais  the  night  previous,  that  the  morning 
nap  might  not  be  disturbed. 

"Good-by,  Annette;  good-by,  Rose."  And  the 
81  * 


82  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

youth  turned  away  hastily,  that  they  might  not 
see  the  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Risden  was  at  hand  to  carry  the  bag  and 
hunting  outfit.  A  brisk  scene  awaited  Antoine. 
About  fifty  flatboatmen  were  scattered  on  the 
shore  and  in  the  bateau.  Francis  Menard  was 
hurrying  up  the  slaves  that  were  carrying  in  the 
last  load.  Two  or  three  merchants  were  making 
final  arrangements  as  to  the  shipment,  and  also 
for  the  goods  to  be  brought  on  the  return  trip. 
Flour,  dried  beef,  skins,  pork  and  great  piles  of 
furs  taken  in  the  Indian  trade  were  sent  to  New 
Orleans  and  way  ports,  of  which  there  were  but 
few. 

"Ha,  Antoine;"  said  Francis  Menard,  not  un- 
kindly, "ready  for  a  rough  life,  lad?"  He  looked 
inquiringly  at  the  youth. 

"Quite,  Capitaine.  At  this  season  not  so 
hard— will  it  be?" 

"Hard  enough  at  all  seasons.  Wait  for  the 
return  pull  and  the  cordelle.  All  have  to  take 
their  turn,  you  understand?" 

"Oui,  oui,  Capitaine." 

"Antoine,  be  not  carried  away  with  the  strange 
sights.  Do  you  have  a  care  and  not  be  deceived 
as  to  your  companions,"  said  Monsieur  St. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  83 

Gemme,  in  an  aside.  "Do  you  think  always  that 
Annette  will  constantly  have  you  in  mind." 

uOui,  Monsieur,"  answered  the  youth,  with 
strong  feelings.  "You  will  have  a  care.  Papa 
and  Annette — should  anything  happen,  you  will 
be  at  hand?" 

"I  promise  that  right  willingly,  as  if  they  were 
my  own." 

The  men  were  ready  by  this  time.  Their 
voices  were  lifted  in  a  rhythmic  ring  to  which 
they  plied  their  oars. 

Antoine  had  clasped  Monsieur's  hand,  and 
with  a  spring  was  on  board. 

Risden  choked  in  his  "Good-by,  Antoine. 
Gloomy  times  at  de  home  when  you  is  gone." 

Antoine  waved  his  hand,  and  took  off  his  skin 
cap,  and  waved  it  again  and  again  as  long  as  the 
peaceful  village  was  in  sight. 

The  swift  strokes  soon  brought  them  into  the 
course  of  the  river  and  out  of  sight. 

Seven  miles  below  they  would  enter  the  Mis- 
sissippi. 'Kaskia  Point  lay  to  their  right — the 
broad  expanse  of  forest  land  between  the  forks 
of  the  two  rivers.  They  rounded  one  curve  after 
another.  The  overhanging  cottonwood  made 
dense  shadows  upon  the  water,  for  which  they 


84  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

felt  through  the  heavy  gray  mist.  But  as  they 
emerged  from  the  mouth  of  the  Okaw  (Kaskaskia) 
River,  a  rare  scene  greeted  their  vision.  A 
roseate  hue  was  in  the  heavens,  and  golden  rays 
shot  forth  toward  the  distant  hills.  The  mist 
rose  rapidly,  and  disappeared  in  a  white  drift. 

The  bend  is  so  broad  at  this  point  that  the 
river  seemed  a  lake.  Some  islands  a  few  miles 
distant  showed  in  graceful  outlines  the  faint  green 
of  the  water  willow. 

The  great  stretches  of  forest  from  the  shore  to 
the  hills  in  the  background,  in  which  the  light 
was  dim  even  at  mid-day,  confronted  them  in 
what  was  formerly  the  Spanish  country.  On 
their  left  were  some  of  the  most  magnificent 
cliffs  to  be  seen  on  the  Mississippi  River.  On 
the  top  of  one  of  the  highest,  over  400  feet 
above  them,  was  an  Indian  wigwam.  It  was  at 
the  edge  of  a  black  oak  grove. 

"From  where  yon  Indian  stands,"  said  Francis 
Menard,  "you  can  see  up  and  down  the  river  a 
distance  of  forty  miles." 

"See  the  pawpaw  bushes  on  the  side  of  the  bluff 
and  the  blackhaws  among  the  tanglevveed. " 

"I  have  made  'pawpaw  harness'  many  a  time," 
said  Menard.  "The  .withes  plaited  were  a  sub- 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  85 

stitute  for  the  leather  thongs  that  we  now  use." 

"I  do  not  like  the  fruit;  its  taste  is  too 
luscious.  It  sickens  me,"  said  Antoine. 

An  Indian  canoe  shot  out  from  the^point.  It 
was  followed  by  another.  The  occupants  were 
now  busy  examining  a  rude  construction  for 
catching  fish.  This  extended  from  the  Illinois 
shore  into  the  Okaw  River. 

"There  are  more  lakes  in  the  Spanish  country," 
pointing  to  the  dark  forest,  "where  fish  can  be 
had  for  the  catching,  and  in  the  fall  the  air  is 
black  with  fowl.  Rare  sport  over  there." 

"We  must  get  the  couriers  du  bois  together 
this  November  and  bag  the  game, "said  Antoine. 

"I  would  like  nothing  better." 

"Look  out  there,  men,"  said  Menard  as  they 
were  passing  the  Mary's  River,  which,  swollen 
at  this  time,  had  undermined  a  large  tree,  which 
fell  crashing  into  the  water.  By  quick  paddling 
they  escaped  its  clutches  and  drew  off  to  a  safe 
distance. 

Louis  Valle,  a  youth  near  Antoine's  age,  was 
in  the  company.  He  was  going  to  New  Orleans 
to  transact  some  business  for  his  grandfather,  a 
very  wealthy  and  self-willed  old  gentleman.  An- 
toine and  he  were  drawn  together  by  the  attrac- 


86  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

tion  of  youth.  Most  of  the  men  were  hardy 
pioneers,  either  traders  or  trappers,  or  both. 
They  were  inured  to  exposure  of  every  kind. 

The  bateau  had  been  on  its  way  several  hours 
when  some  changes  were  made  in  the  position 
of  the  cargo  in  the  hold. 

"Capitaine,  come  here  quick.  I  find  a  skin 
that  is  not  tanned."  And  the  trapper  smiled 
broadly. 

Menard  answered  the  summons.  He  looked 
surprised,  then  forbidding.  "Who  is  this?"  he 
inquired  sternly. 

Antoine  and  Louis,  attracted  by  the  bustle, 
were  at  his  elbow. 

"Henri!"  exclaimed  Antoine  as  he  gazed  at  the 
round  face  of  the  boy. 

Henri  was  full  of  confusion  and  appeared  to 
be  somewhat  frightened. 

"Antoine,  Antoine,"  he  cried,  "let  me  stay 
with  you !  I  could  not  bear  that  you  should  go 
without  me." 

"And  so  you  ran  away?  What  will  your  father 
do  about  the  crop?  Tell  me  that,"  Antoine  said 
severely. 

"He  does  not  need  me.  The  slaves  can  do  all 
and  more.  Antoine,  I  will  do  anything,  serve 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  87 

you  in  any  way,  if  you  will  but  let  me  stay," 
begged  Henri. 

"There  is  no  other  way   now,"    said  Antoine. 

"Can  you  put  him  at  work,  Capitaine?"  turn- 
ing toward  Menard,  and  apologizing  for  the 
trouble  that  Henri  was  giving  him. 

"Yes,  he  shall  help  the  cook;  then  we  may 
see." 

There  were  certain  regulations  to  be  followed: 
Rest  at  certain  intervals;  the  start  each  morn- 
ing at  daybreak;  camp  at  nightfall.  Then  would 
the  men  relax  their  tired  muscles,  and,  stretched 
out  at  full  length  on  their  capotes  (blanket-coats 
with  sleeves)  or  on  bear-skins,  recount  strange 
adventures  by  the  light  of  the  blazing  camp-fire. 

Henri  was  happy  to  be  near  Antoine.  He  felt 
like  a  free  thing.  The  monotony  of  the  planta- 
tion was  far  behind  him.  He  listened  to  the 
wild  stories  of  the  trappers.  A  glimpse  of 
another  existence,  of  which  he  was  on  the  edge, 
crept  into  his  soul. 

At  the  ports  the  voyageurs  were  urged  to  linger 
for  the  festivities  that  would  be  pressed  upon 
them — the  instinct,  old  as  history,  of  the  social 
nature  reaching  out  after  a  fellow-creature. 

Henri  caught   the   excitement   of  Antoine   as 


88  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

they  approached  the  crowded  levee  of  Nouvelle 
Orleans.  It  was  near  the  dusk  of  a  May  evening. 
The  breeze  had  already  set  in  from  the  Gulf. 
Five  ships  were  anchored  in  the  river.  The 
union  jack  was  floating  from  the  mast  of  one. 

"Why  are  so  many  people  out  this  evening, 
Capitaine?  Has  anything  happened?"  asked 
Antoine. 

"No,"  laughed  Menard,  "it  is  always  so  as  the 
bateaux  come  in.  Every  one — slaves  and  all, 
that  can  slip  off,  come  down  to  hear  the  news 
and  take  the  air." 

Loud  greetings  were  called  out  to  Menard  as 
the  bateau  drew  near.  He  was  a  favorite  with 
the  people.  He  had  a  frank  and  sincere  manner 
that  gained  him  friends  everywhere.  The  mer- 
chants with  whom  he  did  business  were  quickly 
gathered  about  him,  and  the  cargo  was  assigned 
by  lots  and  a  watch  detailed  to  take  charge  of 
what  remained.  Then  the  trappers  sought  their 
old  haunts  and  the  exchange  of  news,  and  parted 
with  their  money  for  that  which  was  not  news. 

,Antoine  and  Louis  kept  close  company  with 
Menard.  The  loud  French,  the  Spanish,  the 
jargon  of  the  foreign  tongues,  all  were  confusing 
to  Antoine.  He  had  thought  the  mixture  famil- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  89 

iar  to  him  in  one  village,  but  here  was  bustle 
and  argument  and  dispute  in  such  rapid  succes- 
sion as  to  be  intensely  bewildering  to  his  inex- 
perience. He  'viewed  with  admiration  the 
splendor  of  some  Spanish  dignitaries.  A  pirogue 
containing  negro  slaves  passed  up  the  river. 
They  were  singing  a  musical  lay  in  which  the 
refrain  was  repeated  over  and  over.  Our  voy- 
ageurs  must  be  lodged  for  the  night,  and  followed 
Menard  as  he  pushed  through  the  crowd  about 
the  doorways  of  the  cabaret,  where  men  were 
drinking  tafia  and  others  absorbed  in  gaming. 

"Henri,  keep  near  to  me,"  said  Antoine.  "I 
don't  wish  to  lose  you  at  this  stage.  What 
think  you  of  it,  Louis?" 

"I  intend  to  see  more,"  said  Louis. 

"And  so  will  I;  but  the  smell  is  vile." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

NOUVELLE  ORLEANS. 

ANTOINE  and  Louis  slept  the  next  morning. 
Menard  and  Henri  had  gone  to  the  levee  at  an 
early  hour. 

"Shall  we  walk?"  asked  Antoine. 

"By  all  means,"  replied  Louis. 

Their  strolling  steps  led  them  first  to  the 
market.  "Fresh  fish  and  fresh  vegetables"  were 
being  cried,  "just  from  the  plantation."  They 
watched  Madame,  in  her  smart  frock,  trying  for 
a  cheap  bargain.  A  negress  was  at  hand  to 
carry  the  basket  when  filled. 

Proceeding  along  the  street,  the  goods  dis- 
played to  the  best  advantage  by  the  clerks,  as 
competition  was  sharp,  held  them  as  interested 
spectators. 

"Let  us  go  out  toward  the  bayou,"  said  An- 
toine. They  turned  the  first  street.  Quaint 
cottages  began  to  line  the  way.  Orange  and 

lemon  trees,  climbing  roses  and  the  cape  jessa- 

90 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  91 

mine,  brought  from  France,  appeared  above  the 
pickets. 

"Those  higher  houses  must  belong  to  the  Gov- 
ernment officials,  do  they  not,  Antoine?  Or  to 
the  Spanish  grandees.  Ah,  the  sweet  perfume 
of  the  roses.  Does  not  the  scent  produce  a 
magical  spell  upon  you?  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
carried  out  of  myself  into  an  experience  of  a 
subtle  nature — something  that  might  have  tran- 
spired in  another*  existence." 

"Do  not  rhapsodize,  Louis,  in  this  heat,"  said 
Antoine.  "This  reminds  me  of  Annette  and  of 
home.  Those  pretty  Creole  girls  are  peeping 
through  the  lattice  as  if  we  were  curiosities." 

"Our  costumes  are  not  a  la  Paris,"  said  Louis, 
taking  off  his  skin  cap,  and  viewing  it  in  a  criti- 
cal manner.  "Let  us  return.  I  must  look  for 
my  uncle  at  any  rate." 

They  retraced  their  steps  and  finally  came  to 
a  broad  open  space. 

"This, "said  Louis,"must  be  the  Placed'Armes. 
The  esplanade  leads  from  this  square,"  he  said, 
scanning  the  doorways  carefully,  and  referring 
to  a  slip  in  his  hand.  Presently  he  stopped  be- 
fore a  grimy  building,  covered  with  a  dingy 
stucco,  parts  of  which  had  dropped  off,  showing 


92  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

the  bricks  underneath.  "Antoine,  this  must  be 
the  place,  though  I  think  but  little  of  it."  He 
dreamed  not  of  the  gold  that  changed  hands  here, 
of  the  checks  that  were  cashed,  of  the  deep-laid 
schemes  for  money-getting,  for  money-keeping, 
that  were  hatched  in  the  brain  of  his  relative. 

When  Louis  entered  the  low  door,  he  found 
his  uncle  half  hidden  behind  an  ancient  desk, 
with  his  head  bent  low  over  his  accounts. 

"Bon  jour,"  cried  Louis  gayly. 

"What!  you  here,  Louis?"  said  Monsieur  Per- 
rine  in  astonished  and  rapid  French.  He  had 
met  his  nephew  two  years  before  in  Baltimore. 
Louis  was  the  son  of  a  much  loved  sister  of  Mon- 
sieur Perrine. 

"This  is  my  friend  Antoine  Beauvais." 

"I  knew  your  father.  We  were  at  the  same 
school.  How  is  Monsieur  Beauvais?" 

"Thank  you,  in  usual  health, "replied  Antoine 
respectfully. 

"Here  are  the  papers  sent  you  by  le  grand- 
pere"  said  Louis,  taking  a  leather  belt  from  his 
person,  and  fumbling  for  the  papers  hidden 
within  its  recesses. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  his  uncle,  looking  them  over 
hastily.  "This  is  right,  and  that — yes,  I  will 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  93 

attend  to  the  matter.  Give  yourself  no  further 
trouble." 

Louis'  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile.  He  had 
wonderfully  frank  eyes.  They  expressed  implicit 
confidence  in  the  speaker,  which  was  flattering 
to  his  companion  and  invariably  pleased. 

"You  and  your  friend  must  come  to  the  house 
to-morrow.  The  tante  is  absent  to-day.  I  will 
see  you  there  at  five." 

With  proper  thanks  the  two  withdrew.  As 
they  passed  out  they  brushed  against  some  one 
about  to  enter. 

"Pardon,  Senor,"  said  a  musical  voice,  and  a 
dark-eyed  Spaniard  stepped  aside.  This  was 
Senor  de  Gonsalvo,  who  had  a  large  speculation 
under  consideration,  which  Louis'  uncle  was  to 
manage. 

"Distingue"  said  Louis  to  Antoine. 

"Oui.  One  meets  all  sorts,  Spanish  grandees 
on  one  hand,  and  Canadian  trappers  on  the 
other." 

"We  are  the  latter,"  said  Louis. 

"Trappers  this  side  of  Canada,"  said  Antoine, 
mockingly. 

Louis  shrugged  his  shoulders;  then  a  burning 
blush  passed  over  his  face.  "I  am  a  dog.  The 


94  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

greatest  of  human  characteristics  belong  to  these 
Canadian  trappers — courage  indomitable,  patient 
endurance  in  privation  and  suffering.  They 
bore  the  burnt;  you  and  I  are  feasting  in  their 
tracks.  I  were  not  a  man  should  I  disparage 
them."  And  his  countenance  filled  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

After  a  silence  of  some  length,  Louis  ex- 
claimed: "Antoine,  the  mail  ship  leaves  to- 
morrow. So  Francis  Menard  told  me  last  night." 

"I  must  then  prepare  my  letter  totheflereand 
Annette." 

He  looked  so  woebegone  that  Louis  laughed 
heartily,  and  asked:  "What  is  it,  Antoine?" 

"I  am  a  fool  when  it  comes  to  the  pen,  Louis. 
Ah,  if  I  had  been  more  attentive  to  Father 
Olivier's  instructions!  But  to-morrow  will  be 
soon  enough,"  he  added,  glad  to  postpone  the 
dreaded  undertaking. 

That  evening,  wearied  with  a  day  that  after 
all  had  been  a  little  heavy  on  their  hands,  they 
sought  outside  diversion.  Stepping  warily  over 
the  treacherous  walk,  they  met  two  female 
figures  progressing  slowly  along  the  street.  The 
one  nearest  to  Antoine  slipped  and  fell  into  a 
slimy  puddle  of  water.  Antoine,  with  native 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  95 

politeness,  sprang  forward  to  assist  her  to  rise. 
As  he  lifted  up  the  slight  form,  a  negress  held 
aloft  a  lantern  and  cried,  "Ma'm'selle,  Ma'm'- 
selle,"  and  with  excited  ejaculations  asked  if  she 
was  injured. 

The  light  of  the  lantern  revealed  to  Antoine  a 
face  of  exquisite  beauty.  The  veil  had  fallen 
back,  and  soft  eyes  were  raised  to  his  in  a  dazed 
way. 

"Thank  you,  I  thank  you,  Monsieur.  I  have 
no  injury,"  she  murmured,  and  as  she  recovered 
her  composure,  she  added  in  a  sweet  voice: 
"Come,  Adele,"  and  with  dignity  proceeded  on 
her  way. 

Antoine  was  silent  for  so  long  a  time  that 
Louis  turned  his  raillery  upon  him. 

"Don't,  Louis,  I  wish  not  to  talk  at  present." 

A  vision  was  ever  before  Antoine's  eyes  of 
lovely,  wondering  eyes  lifted  to  his,  and  he  could 
not  at  once  throw  off  their  spell.  In  a  short 
time  he  proposed  to  end  their  walk. 

The  next  day,  according  to  appointment,  An- 
toine and  Louis  made  their  appearance  at  the 
residence  of  Monsieur  Perrine.  He  was  awaiting 
them.  Madame  Perrine  received  them  kindly, 
and  talked  with  vivacity  of  the  voyage  down  the 
great  river. 


96  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Antoine's  heart  leaped  within  him  when 
through  the  open  door  a  young  girl  entered  the 
room  carrying  a  handful  of  flowers. 

"Ma'm'selle  Leonie,"  said  Monsieur  Perrine. 

She  made  a  graceful  courtesy  to  the  young 
men.  Antoine  recognized  the  lovely  countenance 
that  had  rested  on  his  arm  for  a  moment. 

She  was  his  vis-a-vis  at  the  table.  He  sum- 
moned courage  to  look  in  her  direction,  and, 
catching  inadvertently  a  glance  from  the  dark 
eyes,  he  saw  that  the  recognition  was  mutual. 
The  young  girl  did  not  refer  to  the  encounter, 
doubtless  through  timidity,  for  she  sat  modestly 
silent,  while  Monsieur  and  Madame  Perrine  con- 
versed with  their  guests. 

After  the  repast  was  finished,  the  company 
went  into  the  garden.  Cape  jessamine  and  roses 
climbed  the  gallery.  At  the  foot  of  the  garden 
was  a  group  of  trees.  Orange,  lemon,  cypress 
and  laurel  formed  an  attractive  background. 

A  high  palisade  fence  inclosed  all  and  insured 
privacy.  As  the  group  dispersed  Antoine  found 
himself  by  the  side  of  Leonie. 

"Did  Ma'm'selle  suffer  any  injury  from  her 
accident  last  evening?"  asked  Antoine,  in  low 
tones. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  97 

"No,  Monsieur  Beauvais,"  said  Leonie,  blush- 
ing, "do  not  speak  of  it.  I  am  humiliated  to 
remember  that  awkward  slip." 

"No,  Ma'm'selle  Leonie,"  Antoine  hastened 
to  say,  "it  was  the  fault  of  the  wretched  pave- 
ment and  the  dark. 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur.  You  are  too  polite  to 
allow  the  truth.  I  should  have  been  more 
watchful,  but  in  reality  I  am  not  used  to  travel- 
ing there  at  that  hour  without  some  one  else  than 
Adele  to  accompany  me."  Antoine  did  not  in- 
quire, but  Leonie  continued  to  explain:  "A  near 
relative  is  very  ill,  and  she  detained  me  too  long. 
I  knew  that  Adele  would  scold, "she  said  naively. 

"Adele  was  very  much  frightened.  She  could 
not  chatter  fast  enough  in  her  anxiety,"  said 
Antoine  laughing.  He  was  watching  his  young 
companion  with  respectful  admiration.  Her 
beautiful  eyes  were  shyly  raised  to  his;  her  little 
hands  toyed  with  a  dark  red  rose  that  she  car- 
ried. A  delicious  tremor  filled  his  being  as  he 
thought:  "What  a  lovely  creature!  I  would 
this  walk  might  last  forever." 

Madame  Perrine  turned  back  to  speak  with 
Leonie.  Then  the  party  lingered  at  the  side  of 
the  lawn,  where  some  rustic  seats  were  placed. 


98  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Here  they  enjoyed  the  cool  breeze  after  the  heat 
of  the  day.  The  Spaniard  whom  they  had  seen 
at  the  office  the  day  before  was  admitted  through 
the  gate  by  Adele.  His  manner  of  approach 
indicated  that  he  was  on  very  easy  terms  with 
the  family.  After  introductions,  Senor  de  Gon- 
salvo  said:  "I  did  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
your  nephew  yesterday,  Monsieur  Perrine." 

"Ah,  where  was  that?" 

"We  both  tried  to  occupy  the  doorway  at  the 
same  time,"  said  the  Spaniard,  smiling,  and 
showing  a  set  of  white  teeth.  "Do  you  make  a 
long  stay  with  us?" 

"During  a  part  of  the  summer,  Senor." 

"I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  often. 
If  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way,  I  would  be  very 
happy,"  he  said  affably, 

"Thank  you,  Senor,  you  are  very  good." 

Senor  de  Gonsalvo  then  addressed  his  remarks 
to  Leonie.  Antoine  felt  like  throwing  him  over 
the  picket  and  made  a  half  start,  then  remem- 
bered where  he  was,  and  that  he,  Antoine,  was 
the  stranger,  and  not  the  Spaniard. 

"We  know  very  little  of  the  town,"  said  An- 
toine to  Madame  Perrine. 

"It  is  very  gay  for   the  young  men,"  she  an- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  99 

swered.     "Balls    and    play    the    year    round." 

"Here  are  tickets  for  the  grand  fete  next 
week,"  said  Senor  de  Gonsalvo,  producing  the 
cards,  and  handing  them  to  her  with  a  bow. 

"Ah,  thank  you,  Senor."  Then,  turning  to- 
ward her  niece,  "Leonie,  let  us  go  to  the  salon 
and  listen  to  your  song." 

Leonie  looked  timidly  at  Antoine,  but  the  re- 
quest of  the  tante  must  be  complied  with. 

Monsieur  Perrine  brought  out  a  harp,  upon 
which  Leonie  touched  a  few  chords.  She  had 
been  very  carefully  taught  at  the  Ursuline  con- 
vent. When  the  first  bird-like  tones  issued  from 
her  throat,  a  hush  fell  upon  the  company.  An- 
toine, with  his  deep  love  for  music,  listened  in 
rapture  to  her  song.  Monsieur  Perrine  called 
for  yet  another.  The  color  mounted  in  her 
cheeks  at  Antoine's  evident  admiration  of  her 
music.  She  wished  to  be  excused,  but  her  uncle 
would  have  a  spirited  French  air. 

Senor  de  Gonsalvo  then  sang  in  a  rich  tenor 
voice  some  love  songs  in  his  native  tongue,  the 
soft,  musical  voice  blending  in  a  dulcet  strain 
with  the  accompaniment  played  by  Leonie's 
deft  fingers. 

The  evening  ended  with  sprightly  conversation. 


100  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

It  was  with  regret  that  Antoine  and  Louis  bade 
adieu  to  Monsieur  Perrine's  family,  Senor  de 
Gonsalvo  said  at  parting  that  he  would  have 
the  pleasure  of  calling  on  the  young  strangers 
the  next  day. 

This  was  the   first   of   many   happy   evenings 
spent  in  Monsieur  Perrine's  home. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  FETE. 

THE  whole  city  turned  out  to  the  fete.  The 
esplanade  was  crowded.  Antoine  and  Louis 
pushed  their  way  through  the  throng,  with 
Henri  in  their  wake.  The  moving  mass  of  French, 
Spaniards,  Indians,  mulattoes  and  negroes 
surged  back  and  forth,  according  to  the  interest 
taken  in  especial  sights.  The  military  parade 
at  the  Place  d'Armes  would  be  the  main  attrac- 
tion, but  that  was  not  to  come  off  until  eleven 
o'clock,  so  that  there  was  much  time  yet  to  be 
disposed  of. 

"Wait,  Antoine,"  said  Henri,  pointing  to  a 
group  of  negroes. 

"What  is  it,  Henri?" 

"They  are  going  to  have  the  juba  dance,"  an- 
swered Henri. 

Two  or  three  serious-looking  Africans  were 
sitting  on  some  casks,  clapping  their  hands  and 

patting  their  knees  with  a  sort  of  rude  rhythm, 
101 


102  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

while  several  were  going  through  the  dance  with 
such  grotesque  movements  and  fantastic  steps  as 
came  to  them  with  the  inspiration  of  the  moment. 
The  number  of  the  dancers  would  be  increased 
from  time  to  time  as  a  bystander  was  seized 
with  a  magnetic  spell  which  he  could  not  resist, 
or  one  would  drop  out  just  as  suddenly. 

"Which  one  will  hold  out  the  longest?"  asked 
Louis. 

"I  wager  the  old  one  with  the  gray  hair. 
Take  a  louis?" 

"No,  the  younger,  whose  favorite  is  the 
straight  jump  in  the  air,  and  a  drop  with  both 
hands  together." 

The  group  broke  up  with  a  laugh  as  a  Spanish 
sailor,  with  an  overdose  of  the  tafia,  tried  to  join 
in  with  the  others  and  put  them  out  of  time. 
More  than  one  clenched  fist  helped  him  out  of 
the  way. 

Leaving -this  scene,  the  friends  walked  down 
the  street.  In  the  cabaret,  the  Spaniards  with 
song  and  guitar  entertained  themselves  and  the 
crowd  who  roughly  jostled  one  another  about 
the  windows  and  doors.  They  made  another 
round  of  the  Place  d'Armes,  and  arrived  at  the 
quaint  Hotel  de  Ville.  Glancing  upward  as  they 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  103 

passed,  Antoine  saw  Monsieur  Perrine  in  the 
window  of  one  of  the  offices.  Leonie  was  stand- 
ing at  his  side.  From  this  position  they  would 
have  a  good  view  of  the  parade. 

"Louis,"  said  Antoine,  "there  is  Monsieur 
Perrine." 

"Ah,  where?"  asked  Louis,  looking  about  him. 

"In  the  upper  window,  to  the  right." 

As  Louis  raised  his  eyes  Monsieur  Perrine  dis- 
covered the  two  friends,  and  he  beckoned  vig- 
orously to  them.  Louis  nodded  to  his  uncle. 
They  then  forced  their  way  through  the  jam  at 
the  entrance. 

Monsieur  Perrine  was  in  a  most  amiable  mood. 
The  man  of  business  was  left  in  the  grimy  office, 
and  he  was  as  jubilant  as  a  school  boy  on  a 
holiday. 

"Is  there  such  beautiful  weather  on  the  Kas- 
kaskia  River?"  asked  Leonie,  with  a  smile  that 
Antoine  thought  bewitching  indeed. 

"Oui,  Ma'm'selle.  In  our  season  of  spring 
there  are  days  that  make  one  feel  at  peace  with 
all  mankind,  when  the  sun  shines  warm  out  of  a 
blue  sky,  and  the  white,  fleecy  clouds  float  lazily 
overhead.  The  trees  are  waving  their  green 
leaves  to  the  gentle  breeze,  and  birds  trill  forth 


104  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

their  musical  lays.  The  fields,  too,  are  green, 
and  there  is  a  shimmer  of  light  on  either  side  as 
the  lines  of  the  rivers  appear.  If  one  is  riding 
on  his  pony,  over  the  'common  field,'  he  sees 
all  this,  and  also  the  blue  outline  of  the  bluff." 

"But  you  have  cold,  stormy  winters,  and  rain, 
and  deep  mud — is  it  not  so?" 

"That  is  true,  but  this  only  makes  us  enjoy 
the  season  of  which  I  spsak  the  more,"  replied 
Antoine,  "and  before  the  winter  of  storm  there 
is  a  season  which  is  just  like  the  dreamy  uncon- 
sciousness which  is  not  sleep,  nor  yet  is  one 
awake.  And  such  are  these  days  of  which  I  tell 
you.  The  crops  are  sown  and  harvested.  There 
is  small  need  of  more  exertion.  There  is  a  haze 
in  the  atmosphere,  which  is  blue  in  our  Indian 
summer.  The  hills  are  dimly  seen,  as  if  far 
away.  The  leaves  begin  to  fall,  and  presently 
the  foliage  is  thinner,  but  the  leaves  are  so  many 
that  at  first  the  fallen  ones  are  hardly  missed. 
Later  a  few  sharp  touches,  and  the  forest  is  one 
mass  of  gold  and  red  and  yellow.  The  setting 
sun  will  light  up  the  bluffs  on  the  east  of  our 
Kaskaskia  River,  and  they  are  aflame." 

"Then  what?"  she  inquired. 

"Then."  said  Antoine,  smiling,  "the  whirr  of 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  105 

the  quail  is  music  in  my  ears,  and  the  couriers 
du  bois  are  abroad.  The  air  is  black  with  the 
wild  fowl,  and  the  crack  of  the  rifle  awakes  the 
echoes  of  distant  hills." 

"Listen,  Monsieur,  there  is  the  sound  of  fife 
and  drum.  The  soldiers  are  coming." 

The  attention  of  all  is  then  given  to  the  review 
that  is  taking  place  in  the  open  space  below. 

Before  the  party  separated  Leonie  asked  An- 
toine  about  the  ball.  "Do  you  and  Louis  think 
to  be  there?" 

"Will  you  be  present,  Ma'm'selle?" 

'iThat  is  the  plan.     My  uncle  has  the  tickets." 

"We  would  not  miss  it  for  a  great  deal,"  said 
Antoine,  resolving  that  nothing  should  prevent 
him  from  going  if  Leonie  would  be  there. 

"Louis,"  said  M,  Perrine,  "I  have  examined 
the  papers  that  you  left  with  me.  I  will  see  you 
at  the  office  in  the  morning.  I  wish  to  speak  of 
some  matters  connected  with  them." 

Louis  promised  to  meet  his  uncle  at  the  hour 
named. 

"Shall  we  see  you  to-night  at  'le  grand  bar?" 

"Ah,  indeed,  yes,  mon  oncle" 

"Louis,"  said  M.  Perrine,  taking  him  aside, 
"you  have  made  proper  arrangements  to  appear 


106  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

in    suitable    costume?      You     must     realize — " 

Monsieur  Perrine  hesitated,  and  gave  a  little 
cough,  as  if  clearing  his  throat.  He  knew  that 
young  men  are  high-spirited  and  will  not  always 
receive  suggestions,  even  when  needed. 

"All  that  is  fixed,  mon  cher  oncle.  We  have 
talked  the  matter  over  with  Senor  de  Gonsalvo. 
Is  that  satisfactory  to  you?" 

"Entirely."  And  Monsieur  Perrine  appeared  to 
be  relieved. 

"Adieu,  then,  my  Louis,  for  a  few  hours." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  OLD  MILL. 

S 

"ANNETTE,"  said  Marie,  one  morning  about 
three  weeks  after  Antoine's  departure,  "Ma'irT- 
selle  Somers  has  decided  that  we  must  make  our 
sketches.  Will  you  go?" 

"Yes,  if  it  be  the  pleasure  of  Ma'm'selle." 

"I  wish  Antoine  were  here.  How  we  shall 
miss  him,"  continued  Marie.  "He  is  the  life  of 
such  occasions." 

"Why,"  inquired  Annette,  "are  others  to  go?" 

"Indeed,  yes,"  replied  Marie.  "Do  you  think 
of  a  day  just  for  sketching?  It  would  be  one 
long  ennui"  (tossing  her  head).  "We  are  to 
have  lunch  by  the  stream,  and  perhaps  a  fish  in 
the  pond." 

"Risden  can  take  the  provisions  in  the  canoe. 
Jule  might  help  him  carry  the  things  up  the  hill. 
Jule  makes  excellent  coffee." 

"The  English  lady  would  prefer  tea,  would  she 

not?" 

107 


108  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"No  doubt  that  is  true.  Monsieur  St.  Gemme 
will  go,  and — " 

Marie  looked  embarrassed. 

"And  what,  Marie?" 

"There  is  a  friend,  or  at  least  some  one  that 
Monsieur  met  last  year — an  American  gentleman. 
He  thinks  of  coming  to  our  village  to  remain." 

"How  do  you  know?  Have  you  met  the 
American  ?" 

"Why-— yes— I  have." 

"Marie,"  said  Annette,  sternly,  "you  seem  to 
have  no  end  to  your  acquaintances."  She  added 
sarcastically :  "  Pray  does  any  one  enter  or  leave 
our  village  and  you  are  not  aware  of  it?" 

"No,  Annette,  you  needn't  frown,"  retorted 
Marie.  "If  I  were  you  I  would  take  the  veil. 
You  care  so  little  for  the  world  or  the  people  in 
it." 

"Marie,  do  not  speak  so  lightly  of  les  relig- 
icuses"  said  Annette,  reprovingly. 

"To  explain,"  said  Marie,  changing  the  sub- 
ject, "I  was  at  Josephine's,  and  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme  came  to  the  house,  bringing  this  stranger 
with  him.  So,  Annette,  I  could  not  well  avoid 
making  his  acquaintance.  Besides,  he  is  very 
entertaining,  for  he  has  traveled  much." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  109 

"What  is  the  name  of  this  favored  and  gifted 
one?"  asked  Annette,  in  the  same  sarcastic  spirit. 

"Monsieur  Waring — Edgar  Waring." 

"Ah,"  was  the  only  response  to  this  informa- 
tion. 

"Annette,  I  may  tell  Ma'm'selle  that  you  are 
disposed  to  accompany  us?" 

"Pray,  give  my  compliments  to  Ma'm'selle; 
I  shall  be  pleased  to  go." 

Marie  left  with  a  bright  face.  She  had  not 
mentioned  that  Baptiste  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party,  for  fear  that  Annette  would  peremptorily 
decline  to  go.  "Why  does  she  dislike  him  so? 
He  is  polite.  Is  it  but  her  notion?" 

The  various  individuals  who  were  to  join  in 
the  pleasure-seeking  met  at  the  ferry.  Risden 
and  Jule  were  dispatched  with  careful  instruc- 
tions as  to  their  precious  charge.  "Be  at  the 
spring  by  the  time  we  shall  arrive,"  called  St. 
Gemme  as  they  took  the  oars. 

After  crossing  the  ferry  our  pedestrians  fol- 
lowed the  river.  A  two-mile  walk  would  be  a 
guarantee  of  a  just  and  due  appreciation  of  every 
dainty  and  sweetmeat  that  the  cooks  of  the 
various  families  represented  could  devise. 

Annette  gave  Marie  a  side  glance  of  reproach 


110  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

when  she  saw  Baptiste  among  the  expectant 
group.  However,  after  the  first  salutations 
Baptiste  devoted  himself  to  Miss  Somers,  reliev- 
ing her  of  the  materials  for  drawing,  and  other- 
wise assisting  her.  This  was  a  time  when  Bap- 
tiste could  appear  to  advantage.  Always  neat 
and  particular  as  to  his  dress,  he  felt  especially 
well  satisfied  with  himself  this  morning,  and 
inwardly  delighted  that  Annette  had  not  remained 
at  home.  Nature  had  blessed  him  with  a  clear- 
cut  profile  and  a  pair  of  bright,  dark  eyes,  but 
lines  of  weakness  and  subtle  cunning  were  about 
his  mouth.  There  was  not  absolute  wickedness, 
but  under  certain  circumstances  Baptiste  might 
be  able  to  accomplish  much  harm. 

Edgar  Waring  walked  with  Josephine  and 
Marie,  while  Annette  was  left  with  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme.  The  stranger,  about  twenty-three 
years  old,  had  a  visible  air  of  enterprise  and 
pioneer  spirit  about  him.  Annette  decided  in  his 
favor. 

"Marie  did  not  exaggerate  as  usual,  in  his  case," 
she  thought. 

Waring  was  a  tall  blonde,  with  great,  square 
shoulders  and  kindly  blue  eyes.  He  was  very 
much  interested  in  all  that  he  saw,  and  asked 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  111 

innumerable  questions  about  the  people  and  the 
country,  but  in  a  way  that  did  not  offend. 

Josephine,  the  sweetest  and  most  devoted  of 
mothers,  joined  in  the  conversation  from  time 
to  time.  She  had  come  to-day  to  please  Marie, 
who  had  coaxed  her  so  prettily. 

"Ah,  here  is  a  cart  going  to  mill,"  said  St. 
Gemme. 

"Get  in  and  ride,"  said  Mr.   Waring. 

"Do;   we  will  walk  alongside." 

"We  shall  need  some  poles  for  prods,  "laughed 
Baptiste. 

The  lazy  oxen  refused  to  hasten  their  pace. 
No  urging,  or  prodding,  or  walking  by  the  side 
or  ahead  on  the  part  of  the  men,  affected  the 
animals  in  the  least. 

"Their  activity  cannot  be  aroused, "said  Bap- 
tiste, in  a  mock  discouraged  tone. 

As  a  turn  of  the  road  brought  them  to  a  spring, 
Miss  Somers  exclaimed:  "Now,  here  is  the  best 
point  for  a  perspective.  The  ravine  makes  an 
inward  curve.  There  is  space  along  the  ledge 
for  a  passage-way.  The  mill  is  in  the  fore- 
ground, and  a  great  hill  arises  abruptly  to  our 
left.  The  brook  is  below  us." 

All  agreed  that  this    was    the  most    desirable 


112  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

point  of  view.  Baptiste  threw  some  Indian 
blankets  on  the  ground  for  the  ladies. 

"While  we  are  not  needed,  and  possibly  not 
wanted," —  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 

"Chut,"  said  Marie,  "as  if  you  of  all  people 
were  not  wanted!  Your  presence  is  always  in 
request." 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  laughed.  "My  presence 
just  now  would  be  a  luxury.  It  is  not  a 
necessity." 

"Come,  Baptiste,  where  are  the  blacks?  They 
should  have  been  ahead  of  us  with  the  tackle 
and  provisions. 

"Ah,  here  they  are  now,"  said  Waring,  as  the 
heads  of  the  two  appeared  through  the  brush. 

"Disputing,  as  usual,"  said  St.  Gemme. 

"Risden  would  not  agree  with  St.  Peter  him- 
self," said  Baptiste. 

"Or  Satan,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  "and 
he  certainly  will  have  his  opportunity  for  that." 

"Where  is  the  bait,  Jule?" 

Jule  looked  blank. 

"Did  you  forget?"  asked  his  master,    sternly. 

Jule  commenced  in  voluble  French  to  apolo- 
gize, to  explain  that  he  would,  at  once,  procure 
a  great  quantity. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  113 

"Jule,  no  delay,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 
"See  that  you  have  it  ready  by  the  time  we  are 
all  at  the  pond." 

"Oui,  Monsieur."  And  he  started  off  with 
alacrity,  and  soon  disappeared  around  the  corner 
of  the  mill.  If  his  legs  lagged  then,  no  matter; 
the  day  was  before  him. 

Edgar  Waring  took  Marie's  sketch-book  and 
pretended  to  help  her  in  making  observations. 
He  insisted  that  the  pencils  were  not  in  proper 
condition,  and  consumed  much  time  in  preparing 
them  for  use. 

"Ma'm'selle,  that  is  too  heavy  a  stroke,  I  am 
sure,  quite  sure." 

"I  think  not,  Monsieur." 

"I  will  ask  Miss  Somers;  she  will  confirm  my 
statement." 

"Do  not  trouble,  Monsieur." 

"Ma'm'selle  Marie,"  (Waring's  French  was 
fair),  "is  that  meant  for  a  window  or  a  door?" 
he  said,  with  great  interest  in  his  voice. 

He  continued  his  remarks  until  Miss  Somers 
despaired  of  getting  any  good  work  from  Marie; 
so  she  gave  Monsieur  St.  Gemme  an  appealing 
look,  to  go  away  with  the  young  men.  He  an- 
swered by  gathering  up  the  long  hickory  poles 
that  served  for  rods. 


114  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Come,  Waring,  we  are  losing  our  opportunity 
with  the  minutes.  The  fish  will  not  bite  after 
ten  o'clock." 

"I  leave  you  my  encouragement,"  said  Baptiste 
to  the  young  artists,  bowing  himself  away. 

The  men  followed  in  the  wake  of  Jule,  and 
around  to  the  dam,  whence  the  water  was  car- 
ried to  the  wheel  by  modern  aqueducts.  Waring 
burst  into  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  as  the 
beautiful  sheet  of  water  came  into  view.  It 
was  in  a  basin  formed  by  the  hills,  and  covering 
perhaps  forty  acres.  The  rounded  points  of  the 
hills,  sloping  abruptly  to  the  water,  made  an 
irregular  outline  of  the  entire  circuit  of  shore. 
Some  groups  of  the  young  water  willows  showed 
their  heads  above  the  surface,  and  resembled 
miniature  islands.  The  forest  covered  the 
slopes,  and  green  moss  made  a  thick  carpet 
about  the  roots  of  the  trees. 

"A  jewel'in  the  lap  of — " 

"Nature,"  suggested  St.  Gemme. 

The  fish  proved  to  be  eager,  and  the  men 
were  soon  absorbed  in  the  exciting  sport.  Jule 
surprised  them  by  being  at  hand  with  the  re- 
quired bait.  He  neglected  to  state  that  he  had 
bribed  some  small  boys  who  were  fishing  on  the 


OLD'KASKIA  DAYS  115 

other  side  to  share  with  him.  The  boys  that 
came  to  mill  would  spend  their  time  fishing  while 
waiting  their  "turn"  for  a  grind.  The  busy  hum 
and  whirr  of  the  mill  awoke  the  soft  echoes 
among  the  hills. 

The  time  passed  unnoticed  until  Risden's 
voice  rang  out  from  the  heights  over  them: 
"Jule,  you  Jule!  Madame  St.  Gemme  wants 
you  dis  minute,  to  make  de  coffee,  you  heah?" 

A  hearty  laugh  from  the  three  men  frightened 
away  a  poor  fish  that  was  trying  to  get  the  bait 
from  Waring's  hook. 

"Tell  Madame  that  Jule  shall  go  immediately," 
called  back  Monsieur.  "Go,  Jule — do  not  keep 
Madame  waiting.  That  also  means,"  he  added, 
addressing  the  other  fishermen,  "that  we  are  to 
abandon  this  fascinating  occupation,  and  appear 
in  time  to  render  what  aid  our  united  wisdom  in 
woodcraft  may  prompt." 

Waring  and  Baptiste  were  quite  willing  to  re- 
join the  ladies.  As  they  passed  the  mill  it  was 
shut  down  for  the  noon  hour.  The  miller  was 
leaning  for  the  moment  on  the  closed  half  door, 
regarding  their  approach. 

"Did  you  have  any  luck,  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme?"  he  asked,  looking  curiously  at  the 
American. 


116  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Thank  you,  yes,  a%  pleasant  day,"  responded 
St.  Gemme. 

Josephine  and  Marie  were  spreading  the  cloth 
on  a  great  rock  on  the  ledge,  not  far  from  the 
spring.  Miss  Somers  was  putting  some  finish- 
ing touches  to  the  sketches.  Annette  was  sitting 
alone  under  the  shade  of  a  great  tree  whose 
gnarled  roots  reached  from  one  bank  of  the  rivu- 
let to  the  other,  the  earth  washed  out  from  under 
leaving  them  exposed.  She  was  absorbed  in 
her  own  thoughts.  Waring  and  Baptiste  enlisted 
in  the  service  of  Josephine  and  Marie.  The 
latter  was  free  and  graceful  in  her  movements  as 
a  j'oung  fawn. 

"She  is  in  her  native  element  here  in  the 
woods,"  thought  Waring. 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  sat  down  by  Annette. 
He  examined  her  paper  in*  friendly  criticism. 
"Your  eyes  are  true,  Annette,"  he  said  kindly. 
A  pleased  look  filled  her  countenance.  "But 
that  is  the  case  in  another  sense,"  he  said 
gravely. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Monsieur?" 

"I  mean  that  when  the  nature  is  true,  the 
heart  is  true  to  all  its  obligations  in  life.  An- 
nette," he  asked  after  a  silence,  "is  Monsieur 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  117 

Beauvais    in    his    usual    health    this    spring?" 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  she  said,  after  a  moment. 

If  Annette  was  unconscious  of  any  change,  he 
disliked  to  call  her  attention  to  it,  or  to  arouse 
unnecessary  uneasiness.  The  scene  on  the  day 
before  Antoine  left  still  haunted  him.  He  felt 
apprehension  on  account  of  Monsieur  Beauvais. 
Apparently  forgetful  of  his  question,  he  said: 

"Annette,  now  that  Antoine  is  away,  should 
anything  occur — that  is,  should  you  have  need, 
do  not  fail  to  apprise  me,  that  I  may  come  to 
your  assistance.  Promise  me  that." 

She  looked  at  him  gratefully.  The  moisture 
came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  felt  an  impulse  to 
tell  him  of  the  dread  that  rilled  her  heart;  but 
this  was  not  a  fitting  time  or  place,  so  she  re- 
strained her  feelings,  and  answered  him  quietly: 

"I  will,  Monsieur." 

He  gazed  into  those  large  and  expressive  eyes. 
The  innocent  soul  of  a  young  girl  looked  forth. 
'Whatever  he,  with  his  wider  experience,  read 
therein,  he  made  no  sign,  but  said: 

"I  am  satisfied.  Rest  assured  that  whatever 
I  may  be  able  to  do  for  Monsieur  Beauvais  or 
his  family  will  be  deemed  a  privilege." 

Jule  was  now  ready  with  his  share  of  the  feast, 


118  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

broiled  fish  and  hot  coffee.  Monsieur  St.  Gemme 
and  Annette  joined  the  others  at  their  repast. 
St.  Gemme  sat  down  by  his  wife  to  do  the 
honors,  and  dispensed  the  courtesies  of  the  table 
in  a  genial  manner.  In  any  situation  requiring 
tact  he  was  at  his  best.  Repartee  flew  fast  be- 
tween Marie  and  the  young  men.  Even  Annette 
ventured  a  few  lively  sallies,  inspired  by  the 
mirth  of  the  others. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  the  remaining  time 
at  our  disposal?"  asked  Miss  Somers  in  her  very 
precise  way,  after  the  lunch  had  been  partaken 
of  most  generously. 

"I  think  we  must  ask  Marie,"  said  Monsieur 
St.  Gemme,  turning  to  her.  "She  is  the  director 
general." 

"Then,"  said  Marie,  gayly,  "we  will  first  go  to 
the  spring  and  lave  our  fingers,"  holding  hers  up 
and  looking  at  them  ruefully.  "Fricasseed 
chicken  will  leave  its  marks.  I  will  lead  the 
way." 

'  Baptiste  dipped  up  the  pure,  sparkling  water 
with  a  gourd  and  poured  it  over  Marie's  pretty 
pink  fingers,  at  the  same  time  offering  her  a 
spotless  monchoir  for  her  use. 

"Baptiste,  as  you  are   so   kind   I   will  spread 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  119 

this  over  a  bush  to  dry,  and  we  can  find  it  on 
our  return." 

Madame  St.  Gemme  proposed  that  they  should 
climb  the  hill  overlooking  the  shimmering  pond 
and  find  a  greensward  where  they  could  rest  and 
tell  stories. 

"You  begin,  Ma'm'selle,"  said  Marie,  panting 
for  breath,  when  they  reached  the  top.  Tell  us 
about  your  home  in  England. 

This  was  a  subject  near  to  Miss  Somers'  heart, 
and  she  graphically  described  the  scenes  amid 
which  she  had  passed  her  girlhood. 

"Now,  Monsieur  Waring  next." 

Waring  told  of  Claiborne's  rebellion  and  the 
early  persecution  of  Catholics  in  many  lands — 
tales  that  he  had  heard  around  his  mother's  knees 
when  but  a  lad. 

Baptiste  told  of  a  hunting  expedition  in  which 
he  and  Antoirie  and  others  had  engaged.  A 
blinding  storm  of  snow  and  sleet  had  come  upon 
them  in  the  prairie,  lasting  two  days.  They  had 
thought  that  to  perish  with  cold  or  to  become 
food  for  the  wolves  was  their  inevitable  fate. 

"Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  tell  us  about  the  Indian 
raid  on  Paget's  Mill,"  coaxed  Marie. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  IN7DIAN  RAID. 

"An,  that  is  an  old  story.  Are  you  not  yet 
tired  of  it  ?" 

"No,  and  Monsieur  Waring  has  not  yet  heard 
the  account." 

"Proceed, "said  Waring,  in  an  interested  man- 
ner. "I  wish  to  hear  it,  I  must  hear  it,"  he 
added,  looking  at  Marie. 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  said  St.  Gemme. 
"Monsieur  Paget  recognized  the  value  of  the 
location  for  a  mill  site.  No  doubt  he  thought 
only  of  the  business  suitability,  and  not  of  the 
beauty  of  the  place.  Yet  what  more  fitting  spot 
could  have  been  found  for  the  ideal  miller? 
There  must  always  be  more  or  less  of  the  roman- 
tic interest  attached  to  the  surroundings  of  a 
mill,  water  being  the  first  necessity,  and  the 
vegetation  that  follows  the  course  of  the  stream. 
Often  the  broken  contour  of  the  ground  adds 
a  wild  picturesqueness  to  the  situation." 
120 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  121 

"And  such  is  true  of  this  particular  site,"  said 
Marie,  waving  her  hand  toward  the  mill  below 
them. 

"This  place  was  at  a  convenient  distance  from 
the  village,  the  water-power  to  hand.  The  great 
problem  with  the  first  settlers  was  to  get  their 
corn  ground.  The  old-fashioned  horse  mills 
were  inadequate  to  supply  the  demand.  There 
was  plenty  of  rock  in  these  bluffs.  Taking  ad- 
vantage of  this  fact,  Monsieur  Paget  erected  a 
substantial  structure,  and  engaged  in  the  manu- 
facture of  flour  for  the  New  Orleans  market. 
That  was  about  the  year  1765.  The  country 
was  not  secure  from  Indian  depredations  at  that 
time,  and  all  who  settled  away  from  the  village 
underwent  this  great  risk.  The  Kaskaskia  In- 
dians themselves  (you  can  see  the  remnants  of 
the  Illinois,  the  Mitchgannies  and  the  Kaskaskias 
on  the  outskirts  of  our  village)  remained  in  order 
to  have  the  protection  of  the  whites  from  their 
enemies,  the  Northern  warlike  tribes.  One  day 
Monsieur  Paget  and  his  negroes  were  surprised 
by  a  band  of  the  Kickapoos,  a  most  cunning 
and  savage  lot  of  warriors.  One  negro  alone 
escaped  to  carry  the  word  to  the  village.  When 
the  indignant  pioneers  reached  the  mill,  they 


122  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

found  it  the  scene  of  a  most  horrible  massacre. 
The  negroes  had  been  butchered,  and  the  body 
of  Paget  cut  to  pieces,  and  his  head  thrown  into 
the  hopper." 

"It  was  the  work  of  fiends,"  said  Miss  Somers. 
"I  shudder  to  think  of  it." 

"And  they,  too,  are  members  of  the  human 
family!  Bah,  they  are  only  brutes,  "said  Waring. 
"Is  the  country  free  now  from  Indian  raids  about 
here  ?" 

"Yes,  but  you  must  remember,"  said  St. 
Gemme,  "that  we  are  yet  upon  the  frontier." 

"It  is  hard  to  believe  that  when  I  find  so  much 
wealth  and  fashion  where  I  expected  to  find 
naught  but  a  wilderness." 

"We  are  old,"  said  St.  Gemme.  "Pittsburgh 
was  not  thought  of,  Nouvelle  Orleans  did  not 
exist,  but  we  were  a  considerable  town." 

"When  does  your  history  commence?" 

"From  1680  to  1686,"  answered  St.    Gemme. 

"You  are  like  a  bee-hive  now  with  your  float- 
ing population,"  said  Waring. 

Annette  frowned  a  little  at  this  remark.  "The 
mill  was  then  aba'ndoned,  was  it  not,  Monsieur?" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,  for  many  years  the  place  was    avoided, 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  123 

especially  by  the  superstitious,  who  would  hear 
the  yells  of  the  Indians  and  the  shouts  of  the 
poor  negroes  in  imagination.  The  building 
crumbled  until  only  the  walls  remained." 

"When  did  General  Edgar  come  into  posses- 
sion?" asked  Marie. 

"In  1796  this  tract  came  into  his  hands.  He 
repaired  the  mill  and  the  dam  and  did  a  thriving 
business  for  a  number  of  years.  The  mill  now 
is  only  run  occasionally.  Madame  Edgar  and  a 
negress  named  Dice — Aunt  Dice  they  called  her 
— planted  those  cottonwood  trees  when  the 
dam  was  repaired." 

"They  are  in  what  the  Dissenters  would  call 
'good  and  regular  standing,'"  laughed  Waring. 

"Hush,"  said  Miss  Somers,  "don't  be  irrev- 
erent." 

They  arose  at  this  remark  and  wended  their 
way  down  the  hill. 

"Baptiste,"  said  Waring,  "what  say  you?  Let 
us  set  the  mark  and  have  a  trial  of  skill." 

"Very  well,"  he  answered. 

The  party  gathered  at  the  ravine  to  decide 
upon  a  mark. 

"Here,"  said  Waring,  taking  a  letter  with  a 
broken  seal  out  of  his  pocket.  He  put  the  letter 


124  OLD  WASKIA  DAYS 

in  the  fork  of  a  small  tree  a  few  yards  distant. 

"The  paper  will  give  way,"  cried  Baptiste. 

"Can't,"  said  Waring,  laconically;  "it  is 
against  the  bark." 

"Lead,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  as  they 
brought  their  long-barreled  pistols  to  bear  upon 
the  mark.  Baptiste  took  aim,  but  missed  the 
center.  Then  Waring  took  his  turn,  going  inside 
of  Baptiste's  shot. 

"Fire,"  said  Waring. 

"No,"  said  St.  Gemme,  "I'll  wait." 

"Go  on." 

Baptiste  and  Waring  punctured  the  paper  re- 
peatedly, but  failed  of  the  center. 

"Annette,"  said  St.  Gemme,  turning  to  her, 
"do  you  wish  to  try  your  sight?" 

To  his  surprise  she  answered,  "Yes." 

She  took  aim  and  fired.  The  shot  made  the 
exact  center. 

"Mere  accident,"  she  said,  "for  it  is  my  first 
trial." 

"I  can  cut  the  edge,"  said  St.  Gemme.  Bap- 
tiste and  Waring  took  a  wager.  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme  took  aim  and  was  as  good  as  his  word, 
as  the  ragged  edge  of  the  center  shot  showed  to 
be  the  case.  Waring  regarded  him  with  admir- 
ation. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  125 

"Ah,  you  did  not  know  that  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme  is  the  best  shot  in  the  country.  The 
Indians  knew  it  during  the  war  of  1812, "said 
Baptiste.  "Annette,"  he  continued,  when  War- 
ing and  St.  Gemme  became  absorbed  in  a  dis- 
cussion of  events  following  that  war,  "let  us 
climb  the  ridge  yonder,  and  see  the  village." 

Annette  wished  to  refuse.  "Marie  must  come 
too,"  she  said,  "or  Ma'm'selle  Somers." 

But  the  others  were  too  tired.  Madame  St. 
Gemme,  in  her  good  nature,  finally  agreed  to  the 
proposition.  But  when  nearly  at  the  top  of  the 
ledge  she  declared  herself  exhausted,  and  said 
she  would  wait  while  they  gained  the  highest 
point  for  the  view.  She  seated  herself  on  a 
bare  brown  rock  to  await  their  return. 

"It  is  magnificent,"  said  Annette,  her  eyes 
glowing  at  the  prospect  before  her. 

"Ahriette,"  said  Baptiste,  "has  the  day  been 
full  of  pleasure  to  you?  Have  you  had  a  happy 
time?" 

"I  have  been  very  happy,  Baptiste.  Why  do 
you  ask?"  She  was  in  a  mood  to  feel  kindly 
toward  the  whole  world. 

Baptiste  resolved  to  take  advantage  of  the 
moment.  "Because  there  is  nothing  ^that  pleases 


126  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

me  so  much  as  to  see  you  happy.  I  would 
always  have  you  happy,  if  I  could.  Why  do  you 
avoid  me  so?  You  may  know  that  the  wish  to 
make  you  my  wife  is  my  greatest  desire  on  earth. 
Our  parents  have  favored  the  idea." 

"Baptiste,"  said  Annette,  indignantly,  "is  this 
the  reason  why  you  have  brought  me  here  ?  You 
might  have  spared  yourself  this  trouble.  You 
have  long  known  the  nature  of  my  feelings  to- 
ward you." 

"Wait,  Annette;  you  may  change,"  he  said 
imploringly. 

"I  shall  never  change,"  she  said  passionately. 
"I  do  not  wish  to  change.  You  shall  not  speak 
to  me  of  such  things  again." 

"Then,  Annette,  there  must  be  some  one  else, 
for  young  girls  will  listen  to  talk  of  love  until  the 
end  of  time.  To  most  it  is  only  sweet  music  to 
their  ears." 

A  quick  blush  crimsoned  her  face  and  an  angry 
light  burned  in  her  eyes. 

"No,  Baptiste,  there  is  no  one  else,"  but  her 
voice  trembled  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  control 
her  anger  and  dislike. 

"Annette," — and  he  took  a  step  toward  her, 
he  in  turn  becoming  angry  at  her  indifference, 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  127 

— "if  there  is  any  one  else,  I  shall  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  find  who  it  is."  He  muttered 
threats,  but  Annette  turned  away  from  him  and 
ran  down  the  path.  She  knew,  however,  that 
she  had  that  moment  changed  her  lover  into  an 
enemy. 

Madame  St.  Gemme  said:  "It  is  quite  time 
to  return  to  the  village.  You  and  Baptiste  were 
a  long  time  viewing  old  'Kaskia." 

Annette  murmured  some  reply,  with  an  averted 
face.  She  kept  close  to  Miss  Somers  on  the 
homeward  tramp,  excluding  herself  from  the  gay 
talk  of  those  in  advance.  Risden  and  Jule  had 
packed  the  hampers  and  had  gone  shortly  after 
lunch. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LE  GRAND    BAL. 

ANTOINE  and  Louis  with  laugh  and  jest  pre- 
pared to  attend  the  ball  with  which  the  fete  was  to 
end.  They  viewed  each  other  with  congratula- 
tion and  some  admiration.  The  change  pro- 
duced by  the  habiliments  which,  guided  by  Senor 
de  Gonsalvo's  irreproachable  taste,  they  had 
provided  for  the  occasion,  was  amazing  to  them. 
The  famous  beauties  of  whom  they  had  heard 
would  doubtless  single  them  out  for  especial 
favor,  they  laughingly  assured  themselves.  An- 
toine  was  not  at  all  disturbed  at  the  thought  of 
meeting  the  grandees  of  the  town,  for  his  one 
gift  was  an  ease  and  charm  of  manner  that 
would  adapt  itself  to  such  a  company. 

Louis  felt  more  trepidation.  But  Monsieur 
Perrine  and  his  kind  wife  would  be  there,  and  he 

a 

could  take  refuge  in  their  company.     At  the  time 
appointed  Senor  de  Gonsalvo  called  for  them  on 

his    way.      He    was   richly    dressed.      The    two 
128 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  139 

friends  felt  suddenly  as  if  they  were  far  removed 
into  the  background,  as  at  the  entrance  he  saluted 
them  with  a  graceful  wave  of  the  hand. 

"Pardon,  but  I  am  a  few  moments  late,  I  fear." 

"It  is  of  no  consequence,  Senor,"  they  ex- 
claimed. 

"If  it  is  your  pleasure  we  will  proceed  to  the 
ball-room." 

Antoine  and  Louis  were  quite  in  sympathy 
with  this  proposal.  They  had  in  reality  been 
consumed  with  impatience,  notwithstanding  An- 
toine's  polite  response  to  the  Senor's  apology. 

The  indulgent  moon  made  plain  their  route, 
and  hidden  traps  in  the  walk  were  not  dreaded 
as  on  the  night  of  the  previous  week.  Men  and 
women  in  gala  costume  thronged  the  streets, 
bent  upon  entertainment  of  various  kinds.  An- 
toine's  spirits  were  light  and  in  full  keeping  with 
the  hilarity  about  him.  In  anticipation  he  was 
already  at  the  dance,  with  Leonie  as  his  light- 
footed  partner.  Monsieur  Perrine's  party  had 
not  arrived,  much  to  his  disappointment.  How- 
ever, the  dancing  had  not  yet  commenced.  Gay 
groups  were  scattered  about  the  hall — elegantly 
dressed  women  and  young  girls  with  sleepy, 
veiled  eyes  that  presently  would  expand  with 


130  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

excitement    and    shine    and    sparkle    like  stars. 

"Senor  de  Gonsalvo  is  a  favorite,  see,"  whis- 
pered Louis. 

"It  seems  so.  The  grandes  dames  we  smiling 
on  him." 

"He  is  rich  and  is  descended  from  a  family  of 
rank,"  said  Louis. 

"There  are  five  debutantes,  just  from  finishing 
touches  at  the  Ursuline,  Madame  Perrine  told 
me." 

"A  worldly  and  striking  contrast  to  their  past, 
then,"  said  Antoine.  His  eyes  were  roving. 
They  were  guarding  the  approach,  that  Leonie 
might  not  enter  unobserved  of  him. 

Senor  de  Gonsalvo  came  up  to  them.  "I  must 
have  the  happiness  of  presenting  you  as  partner 
for  some  of  the  beautiful  ladies." 

So  after  all  Antoine  was  on  the  floor  dancing 
when  Leonie  arrived  with  her  uncle  and  aunt. 
He  felt  his  heart  give  one  great  bound.  Then, 
strange  to  relate,  he  was  all  devotion  to  his  part- 
ner, who  afterwards  said  to  the  grande  dame, 
her  mother:  "He  has  the  most  charming  man- 
ners, this  young  Kaskaskian.  Who  is  he, 
mamma?" 

"I  know  not,  macherie.   It  is  all  right,  I  doubt 


OLD  'K/tSKl/t  DAYS  131 

not.  Senor  de  Gonsalvo  may  tell  you."  And 
she  continued  her  gossip  with  her  neighbor. 

Antoine  and  Louis  soon  joined  the  coterie 
about  Monsieur  Perrine  and  Madame. 

Antoine,  after  the  usual  compliments  were  ex- 
changed, asked  permission  to  lead  Leonie  out 
upon  the  floor. 

Louis'  shyness  had  vanished  as  he  entered  the 
brilliantly  lighted  apartment,  where  scores  of 
candles  in  their  silver  sconces  shed  luster  over 
the  scene.  Antoine  danced  as  he  had  never 
danced  before.  Leonie  tripped  lightly  by  his 
side.  Madame  Perrine  smiled  as  she  watched 
the  young  couple,  so  engrossed  in  their  own 
pleasure,  and  totally  unconscious  of  others. 
Senor  de  Gonsalvo  gave  a  casual  glance  in  their 
direction.  If  he  observed  their  devotion  he 
merely  drew  his  brows  together  and  turned  away 
as  if  it  was  a  matter  of  no  importance,  and  gave 
them  no  further  attention.  Antoine  spent  as 
much  time  in  Leonie's  company  as  he  thought 
in  accordance  with  good  taste.  When  at  last 
the  gray  dawn  was  breaking  in  the  east,  and  the 
candles  had  burned  down  to  their  sockets,  the 
dancers  began  to  give  way. 

"It   is   by  far  the  most  delightful  ball   I   ever 


132  OLD  -KASKIA  DAYS 

attended,"  said   Antoine   to   Leonie  at   parting. 

"And  I,"  said  she,  smiling  sweetly  upon  him. 
Her  drapery  of  tulle  and  silk  was  .crushed  by  the 
exercise,  and  most  of  the  rosebuds  with  which 
her  costume  was  decorated  had  fallen  off,  but 
Antoine  did  not  care  for  these  minor  points. 

Madame  Perrine  smothered  a  yawn,  and  tapped 
Leonie  on  the  shoulder  with  her  elaborate  fan. 

"Come,  come;  it  is  high  time  we  old  people 
were  in  bed,  and  young  eyes,  too,  need  sleep,  if 
I  mistake  not.  Adieu,  Monsieur;  we  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you?  Do  not  let  too  long 
a  time  pass  by,"  she  said  to  Antoine. 

"Thank  you,  Madame.  I  shall  be  only  too 
happy  to  avail  myself  of  your  permission." 

This  ball  was  the  first  of  many  festive  gather- 
ings attended  by  Louis  and  Antoine.  They  were 
known  to  represent  families  of  wealth.  Time 
flew  by  rapidly  in  this  gay  circle.  Louis  noted 
with  some  anxiety  a  dormant  passion  for  play 
aroused  in  Antoine.  Was  this  fashionable  pas- 
time of  the  day  going  to  prove  his  ruin?  Day 
and  night  men  sat  by  the  gaming-table  try- 
ing to  supply  their  never  satiated  appetite. 

Louis  played  occasionally.  When  he  saw  its 
hold  upon  Antoine  he  tried  to  fill  in  the  time  in 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  133 

other  ways.  The  growing  interest  in  Leonie 
was  an  aid  to  Louis'  plans,  and  he  furthered  this 
interest  in  every  way.  The  memory  of  those 
hours  of  indescribable  delight  passed  in  the 
home  of  Monsieur  Perrine  returned  again  and 
again  in  the  gloom  that  came  to  Antoine  in  after 
years. 

Very  often  they  would  have  tea  in  the  sheltered 
garden.  Bright  and  animated  conversation 
would  ensue.  The  annoying  feature  to  Antoine 
was  Senor  de  Gonsalvo's  presence  at  these  times. 
He  did  not  usurp  Leonie's  society,  however, 
but  would  converse  often  with  Monsieur  Perrine 
or  Madame.  They  left  Antoine  free  to  be  with 
Leonie.  Strolling  in  the  rose  walks,  the  young 
people  would  exchange  experiences,  their  unim- 
portant thoughts  and  their  views  of  life  as  it  ap- 
peared to  their  youthful  fancy. 

"Shall  we  have  music?"  Monsieur  Perrine 
would  ask. 

"Most  certainly,"  the  Senor  would  respond. 
"Will  Ma'm'selle  Leonie  sing  for  us?  Is  the 
cold  in  her  throat  quite  recovered?" 

"I  thank  you,  Senor,  I  am  but  slightly  hoarse." 

"The  Senor  will  accompany  on  the  guitar?" 
Antoine  would  inquire. 


134  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Then  would  follow  a  merry  round,  in  which 
Leonie's  clear  soprano,  the  Spaniard's  soft 
tenor  and  the  fine  bass  voice  of  Louis  would 
unite  in  harmony. 

Does  sorrow  press  as  heavily  and  are  the 
stings  of  grief  as  severe  under  the  sunny  skies 
as  in  our  northern  clime  of  ice  and  snow?  An- 
toine,  in  all  the  confidence  of  youth,  sought 
Monsieur  Perrine  in  his  office,  one  morning  be- 
fore the  business  of  the  day  began  to  surge  in 
and  out  through  the  low  doorway.  Monsieur 
Perrine  waited  for  him  to  state  his  errand. 
Antoine's  throat  was  a  little  husky,  but,  gazing 
straight  into  the  shrewd  face  that  was  intent 
upon  a  sharp  trade  that  day,  he  said: 

"Monsieur  Perrine,  you  must  have  seen  that 
I  am  deeply  interested  in  your  niece,  Mademoi- 
selle Leonie.  I  ask  your  permission  to  address 
her  with  a  view  to  making  her  my  wife." 

A  slight,  a  very  slight  trace  of  a  smile  hovered 
about  Monsieur  Perrine's  dry  lips.  "Have  you 
apprised  Ma'm'selle  of  this?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Monsieur,  certainly  not  before  I  had 
spoken  with  you,  though,  no  doubt,  Ma'm'selle 
is  not  blind.  She  may  have  read  my  heart." 

"It  is  well.  I  have  made  other  arrangements 
for  Ma'm'selle  Leonie." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  135 

Antoine  looked  confounded  and  somewhat 
foolish.  "Does — Ma'm'selle  Leonie — know  of 
these  arrangements?" 

"No,  Ma'm'selle  is  very  young  yet.  We 
thought  best  not  to  speak  to  her  of  them  until 
another-year  had  passed." 

Antoine  took  his  leave  of  Monsieur  Perrine — 
he  hardly  knew  in  what  manner.  In  reflecting 
afterward  he  hoped  that  he  had  been  respectful. 
He  walked  the  streets  for  hours.  At  one  time 
he  discovered  that  he  had  followed  the  bayou  a 
long  distance.  He  looked  at  the  sluggish  waters. 
"Such  will  life  be  to  me  in  the  future."  He 
stopped  and  turned  back.  "I  must  see  Leonie," 
he  cried  to  himself.  A  miserable  pain  was 
tugging  at  his  heart.  It  clung  to  him  persistently 
through  the  long  day.  It  was  a  welcome  thought 
that  Menard  was  preparing  to  return  to  Kaskas- 
kia.  Did  he  think  that  he  could  leave  that  subtle 
pain  behind? 

At  the  last  meeting  in  Monsieur  Perrine's 
house  he  saw  that  it  was  quietly  being  managed 
so  that  he  and  Leonie  should  have  no  private 
talk.  Leonie's  glance  followed  him  inquiringly. 
Her  eyes  were  heavy,  and  there  was  a  wan  look 
upon  her  face.  "Was  this  on  account  of  his 


136  OLD  >KASKIA  DAYS 

absenting  himself  for  the  past  several  days? 
How  could  he  ascertain  the  truth  in  the 
matter?" 

"Ma'm'selle  Leonie,"  he  said  boldly  at  part- 
ing, "may  I  have  the  rose  you  carry  in  your 
hand,  to  keep  as  a  reminder  of  the  young  rose 
I  leave  blooming  in  Monsieur  Perrine's  home?" 

She  blushed  and  handed  him  the  flower.  His 
eyes  were  eloquent  as  he  thanked  her.  Mon- 
sieur Perrine  could  not  prevent  that  expressive 
language  which  told  far  more  than  the  spoken 
word. 

Antoine  and  Louis  departed  after  the  message 
for  friends  in  old  Kaskaskia  had  been  stated  and 
restated  over  and  over  again.  As  Adele  attended 
them  to  the  gate,  Antoine  slipped  a  note  into 
her  hand. 

"It  is  for  your  mistress,  Mademoiselle  Leonie." 

"She  shall  have  it,  Monsieur,"  said  Adele. 

Antoine  thought  that  he  might  trust  her,  as 
she  had  regarded  him  with  special  favor  since 
the  night  of  the  accident. 

In  the  note  he  informed  Leonie  of  the  attach- 
ment she  had  inspired  in  him,  but  owing  to 
reasons  that  were  beyond  his  control  he  could 
not  address  her.  He  would  have  to  carry  a 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  137 

broken  heart  through  life  with  him,  but  there 
was  one  thing  that  he  would  ask,  and  that  was, 
should  she  ever  find  herself  in  trouble  and  need 
his  assistance,  he  would  fly  to  her  relief — would 
she  write  for  him? 

Louis  decided  to  remain  in  the.  city,  as  the 
business  on  which  he  had  come  was  not  yet 
completed.  Antoine  did  not  confide  in  Louis 
his  heart  affair.  He  possessed  something  of  his 
father's  reserve  in  such  matters,  while  very  frank 
in  the  other  affairs  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    RETURN. 

"WHERE  is  Henri?" 

"Why,  don't -you  know?"  said  one  of  the  voy- 
ageurs. 

"No,"  said  Antoine,  beginning  to  feel  alarmed. 

The  man  laughed.  "To  tell  the  truth,  he  is 
safe  for  the  present." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Antoine,  angrily. 
"If  you  have  anything  to  say  tell  it." 

"Some  of  those  Spaniards  were  after  him  to 
get  their  fun.  Henri  boasts  that  he  could  drink. 
They  wager  him  he  could  not  drink  one  of  tafia 
to  their  four,  their  ten.  He  took  them,  and 
with  their  bad  French  and  his  poor  stock  of 
Spanish  I  know  not  what  would  have  been  the 
end.  One  of  our  voyageurs  came  along  and 
brought  him  too." 

"Where  is  he  now?"  demanded  Antoine. 

"The   last    I    knew,    he    is    in     the    lock-up. 

Jacques  was  bringing  him  to  the  river,  when  they 

138 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  139 

passed  a  bird  man  on  the  corner.  Henri  was 
not  clear,  and  he  thought  the  birds  better  to  be 
free  than  in  the  cage,  so  he  opened  the  door  of 
the  cage." 

"The  fool!"  muttered  Antoine. 

"The  seller  raised  a  big  cry.  The  crowd  and 
the  boys  they  take  it  up,  and  have  a  big  melee. 
The  grand  officials  say  that  Henri  has  offended 
against  the  peace. .  They  will  keep  him  for  a 
while." 

Antoine  knew  not  what  to  do  in  this  strait. 
He  awaited  Francis  Menard's  coming  with  im- 
patience. Menard  frowned  when  he  heard  the 
circumstances;  then  a  thought  occurred  to  him. 

"Wait  till  night,"  he  said;  "we'll  have  to  take 
him  out;  for  we  can't  wait  weeks  for  them  to 
take  up  his  case.  They  are  slow.  Attention, 
voyageurs."  He  passed  the  word  to  be  on  hand 
promptly,  at  night.  "I  have  a  soft  job  for  you." 

At  midnight  he  marshalled  his  forces,  and, 
having  left  a  swivel  or  two  to  protect  the 
bateau,  he  marched  his  men  to  the  calaboose. 
He  drew  them  up  in  line  and  called  out  in  loud 
French: 

"I  demand  this  prisoner,  and  the  first  man 
that  interferes  will  be  shot." 


140  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

At  a  signal  the  guards  were  covered,  and  they 
dared  not  interpose.  Having  rescued  his  prize, 
he  marched  to  the  river,  followed  by  the  cheers 
of  the  crowd  that  is  always  on  hand  on  such 
occasions,  springing  up  from  who  knows  where. 

"Come,  move  on  before  the  rascals  have  a 
chance  to  retaliate."  The  men  took  to  the  oars 
in  haste. 

"Henri,  you  ugly  beast,  to  put  the  Capitaine 
to  all  this  trouble,  and  maybe  danger,"  re- 
proached Antoine. 

"The  lad  was  hardly  worth  it,  but  I  promised 
Monsieur  Beauvais  to  return  his  son.  Antoine 
would  not  have  gone  without  Henri,"  said 
Menard  dryly. 

The  night  was  calm  and  dark,  save  for  the 
star-light.  The  men  were  fresh  and  rowed 
steadily  until  the  dawn  broke.  Then  the  Capi- 
taine ordered  them  to  halt.  He  took  off  his  red 
cap  and  bared  his  brow  to  the  fresh,  life-giving 
air.  Coffee  and  bacon  had  been  given  to  the 
men,  who  were  tired  with  their  long  pull. 

"Voyageurs,  rest  for  the  next  two  hours." 

A  valuable  cargo  was  on  board,  worth  many 
thousands  of  dollars. 

"What   do  you  carry,    Capitaine?"  said  An- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  141 

toine,  sleepily,  as  he  stretched  himself  out  to 
rest. 

"Provisions  for  William  Morrison's  big  trade. 
I  took  up  a  cargo  for  Pierre  last  time.  I  hope 
those  molasses  kegs  won't  leak  this  time." 

Henri,  who  wished  to  atone  for  his  escapade 
of  yesterday,  took  his  turn  manfully  at  the  cor- 
delle. 

By  means  of  pulling,  rowing  and  pushing  along 
the  banks  with  great  poles  the  bateau  was  gain- 
ing slowly.  Hundreds  of  miles  were  to  be 
traversed  in  this  laborious  manner.  The  men  at 
the  cordelle  either  swam  the  shallow  streams  or 
crossed  in  canoes.  Sometimes  the  cordelle  was 
wound  around  a  large  tree  and  worked  upon  the 
principle  of  the  windlass  to  draw  the  heavy  cargo 
up  stream.  The  first  brick  house  in  Kaskaskia 
was  built  of  bricks  brought  down  the  Ohio  River 
and  taken  up  the  Mississippi  in  flatboats,  a  slow 
and  tedious  process. 

They  had  been  out  six  weeks,  when  one  day 
at  noon  the  sky  began  to  darken  and  thick  clouds 
were  charging  across  the  heavens.  A  streak  of 
yellow  light  shone  in  the  southwest.  The  voy- 
ageurs  were  commencing  to  show  signs  of  fear. 
Ominous  sounds  were  heard. 


142  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Get  a  sail  ready,"  ordered  the  Capitaine.  He 
stood  at  the  helm,  brave  and  intrepid,  with  calm 
eyes  gazing  at  the  approaching  storm. 

"There  will  be  a  hurricane,"  said  Antoine,  as 
a  funnel-shaped  cloud  suddenly  separated  into 
several  finger-like  divisions,  that  dipped  and 
rose  alternately,  as  it  swept  along  the  bend  of 
the  river. 

"I  tell  you  it  is  too  much  of  a  risk  this  time, 
Capitaine,"  shouted  one  of  the  voyageurs  with 
forbidding  looks.  Menard  called  him  a  dog. 
The  water  was  dark  and  sullen.  The  waves, 
started  up  by  the  wind,  broke  into  lines  of  white 
foam,  the  bateau  violently  rocking  with  their 
force. 

Menard  seemed  to  have  within  his  nature  a 
power  that  was  called  out  by  a  disturbance  of 
the  elements.  He  stood  immovable  at  the  rud- 
der, a  striking  figure  in  his  red  cap  and  great 
capote. 

There  was  a  sudden  roar;  the  clouds  assumed 
a  greenish  cast,  lifted,  and  rushed  overhead  in 
the  line  of  the  bluffs  on  the  right.  Forest  trees 
were  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  the  large  branches 
were  sent  tumbling  along  before  the  mighty 
force  of  the  whirlwind.  Birds  were  blown  out 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  143 

of  their  nests  and  drowned  in  the  torrents  of  rain 
that  accompanied  the  outburst.  The  sails  taking 
the  outer  edge  of  the  wind,  the  bateau  swept 
along  at  a  tremendous  pace.  Antoine  and 
Henri  held  their  breath,  expecting  every  moment 
to  be  dashed  into  eternity.  A  few  hours  of 
drenching  rain,  and  then,  as  they  were  rounding 
an  island,  a  great  stretch  of  rich  bottom  land  on 
one  side  and  high  bluffs  on  the  other,  the  sun 
shone  out  at  the  setting  and  enveloped  them  in 
a  golden  mist  in  which  the  scene  was  a  fairy- 
land. 

That  night  as  they  gathered  about  the  blazing 
camp-fire  Antoine  said  with  a  shiver,  "I  am 
much  chilled,"  warming  his  hands  in  the  blaze. 

"Here,"  said  Henri,  "take  this,"  handing  him 
a  cup  of  black  coffee  with  spirits  in  it. 

The  morning  found  Antoine  feverish,  and  not 
like  himself,  but  drooping  and  dull. 

"You  must  take  this  powder,  Antoine.  The 
Capitaine  says  it  does  you  good." 

But  Antoine  shook  his  head  impatiently.  "I 
of  all  people  ought  to  bear  a  little  wetting. 
What  is  that  to  me?" 

"The  Capitaine  say  you  shall,  Antoine.  You 
be  sick  a  long  time,  and  I  know  you  nof  like 
that,  Antoine." 


144  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

But  Antoine  refused  the  medicine.  He 
thought  it  a  preposterous  idea.  But  in  a  few 
days  the  fever  continued  to  rise  rapidly,  Antoine 
moaning  as  if  in  great  pain.  Francis  Menard 
peremptorily  administered  the  powders.  A 
number  of  weary,  tedious  weeks  followed.  An- 
toine fretted  under  this,  to  him,  new  experience. 
His  fine  health  and  a  system  inured  to  exposure 
had  made  him  invulnerable,  he  had  supposed,  to 
disease.  Henri  proved  himself  an  invaluable 
nurse.  He  listened  to  Antoine's  raving  during 
the  progress  of  the  fever.  Antoine  seemed  to 
be  living  over  again  the  scenes  in  New  Orleans. 
"Leonie"  was  so  often  on  his  tongue  that  Henri 
felt  a  jealous  pang  for  fear  that  Antoine  might 
go  to  New  Orleans  to  live.  "And  all  for  that 
Ma'm'selle,"  thought  he.  Snatches  of  songs 
that  Antoine  had  learned  while  there  would  fall 
from  his  lips.  Some  dark-eyed  stranger  seemed 
to  annoy  him.  "Leonie,"  he  cried,  starting  up, 
"you  would  not  surely — not  to  him."  .Then  the 
remainder  of  the  sentence  died  away  on  his  lips. 
"Not  another  game  to-night,"  he  would  cry.  "I 
have  no  stake.  His  voice  is  soft  and  sweet,  and 
he  sings  songs  only  of  love.  I  know  not  his 
words,  but  his  glances  tell  me  it  is  so." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  145 

"Antoine,  Antoine!"  Henri  would  say.  "It  is 
nothing.  You  are  with  Henri.  We  are  going 
home,  home,  Antoine." 

"Home,"  he  repeated  vacantly,  and  then  re- 
lapsed into  his  wanderings. 

Henri  was  in  despair.  "What  will  Monsieur 
Beauvais  and  Annette — Annette  with  her  great 
eyes — what — if  anything  happens  to  Antoine?" 

Francis  Menard  looked  grave  these  days. 
"Watch  him  closely,  lad.  We  must  get  him 
back  to  old  'Kaskia." 

Antoine's  constitution  finally  brought  him 
out  of  the  attack.  Then  came  long  days  of  con- 
valescence. The  season  was  changing  during  the 
slow  progress  toward  the  north.  The  October 
days  were  a  little  sharp,  and  the  notes  of  the 
wild  duck  were  heard.  Antoine  felt  his  pulses 
leap  with  the  instinct  of  the  hunter.  One  day, 
after  his  strength  had  partially  come  back  to 
him,  he  said: 

"Come,  Henri,  bring  the  guns.  Let's  try  for 
some  birds  over  there  in  the  swamp." 

"Don't  go  beyond  call,"  said  Menard  warn- 
ingly.  They  made  a  detour  and  came  out  on  a 
small  lake,  the  haunt  of  wild  ducks.  Antoine 
made  several  successful  shots.  Henri  secured 


146  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

the  game  and  carried  back  to  camp  a  bunch  of 
fowl  with  glossy  black  feathers.  The  wings 
were  tipped  with  blue  and  green,  and  so  were 
the  neck  and  head. 

"Antoine,  see  there,"  said  Henri,  pointing  to 
the  top  boughs  of  a  tall  tree.  Antoine  looked 
up.  He  saw  two  Indian  coffins  made  of  logs 
hewn  out  neatly.  In  them  had  been  placed  the 
dead,  awaiting  the  return  of  the  band,  when  the 
remains  would  be  taken  to  the  burying-ground 
of  the  tribe. 

Antoine  turned  away  quickly.  He  would 
usually  have  been  indifferent  to  a  sight  with 
which  he  had  become  familiar  on  former  tramps. 
Now  the  new  life  was  coming  through  his  veins, 
and  he  shuddered  at  this  reminder  of  dissolution. 
Life  was  inexpressively  dear  to  him.  He  felt 
that  he  would  not  live  to  be  too  old.  He  was 
beginning  to  hope  that  the  year  might  bring 
some  turn  in  his  fortunes,  and  that  Leonie  would 
yet  become  his  wife.  He  knew  not  how  it  was 
to  be  Brought  about  as  yet,  but  time  would 
reveal  to  him  how  to  proceed.  A  halloo  from 
camp  hastened  their  footsteps. 

The  remaining  weeks  of  the  voyage  passed 
without  incident.  When  within  a  day's  journey 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  147 

from  the  village,  Henri  and  one  of  the  crew  were 
dispatched  in  a  canoe,  to  inform  their  friends  of 
the  near  approach  of  the  voyageurs.  As  the 
bateau  rounded  the  last  curve,  they  saw  that  the 
banks  were  crowded  with  villagers — merchants, 
old  men  and  young,  matrons  and  young  girls — 
merry  figures  in  capote  with  handkerchief  tied 
on  head,  or  in  hunting  shirt  and  leggings  of 
dressed  deer-skin,  with  the  skin  of  prairie  wolf 
for  cap.  The  red  glow  of  the  setting  sun  back 
of  the  village  made  it  stand  out  in  bold  relief. 
The  silvery  chimes  of  the  bell  floated  over 
the  water.  The  familiar  sight  and  sound  thrilled 
Antoine's  heart.  He  hastened  ashore,  expecting 
to  meet  his  father  and  Annette,  the  first  to 
welcome  him.  Risden  and  Jule  were  there. 

"How  is  you,  Antoine?"  said  Risden,  his  eyes 
shining. 

"Well,  but,  Risden,  where  are  my  father  and 
Annette?" 

"The  Monsieur  not  feeling  strong— dat  is,  not 
right  strong.  He  sent  Risden  to  say  he  waitin' 
for  you  at  de  house  " 

Antoine  felt  a  strange  depression  at  this  end 
of  his  long  and  eventful  journey. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    FRONTIER. 

WARING  was  undecided  as  to  his  location.  He 
wished  to  have  a  long  talk  with  Vital  St.  Gemme 
as  to  the  prospective  advantages  should  he  con- 
clude to  remain  in  Kaskaskia.  He  walked  down 
the  street  to  St.  Gemme's  office,  or  rather  to  a 
room  that  was  occupied  by  several  individuals 
for  various  uses. 

The  desk  stood  in  one  corner.  St.  Gemme 
was  busy  examining  some  records,  but  laid  them 
aside  in  order  to  give  his  attention  to  Waring. 
"Monsieur,  I  think  you  could  not  do  better.  You 
perceive  the  situation.  The  country  is  in  a 
transition  state.  We  shall  doubtless  be  a  State 
before  many  months." 

"Trade  certainly  is  active,  I  admit  that,"  said 
Waring. 

"Where  will  you  find  a  more  brilliant  bar?" 
asked  St.  Gemme.  "Here  is  young  Kane,  who 

is  fast  becoming  famous,  Nathaniel  Pope,  Baker, 

148 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  140 

John  Scott;  Thomas  Reynolds  is  often  here,  and 
other  talented  lawyers." 

"Kane  tells  me  that  he  wants  a  schoolmate  of 
his,  Sidney  Breese,  to  locate  here.  He  says 
that  the  young  man's  ability  is  of  the  highest 
order." 

"That  is  what  we  want — leading  talent.  Then 
is  the  country  certain  to  advance." 

"Too  much  talent,  possibly,  for  me,"  laughed 
Waring.  "What  show  will  I  have  when  there 
are  so  many  bright  lights  to  eclipse  me  ?  Serious- 
ly, I  had  intended  to  examine  other  points  of 
the  frontier  as  to  suitability  in  canying  out  my 
plans.  I  trust  I  may  have  at  least  a  useful 
career." 

Waring's  manly  tones  and  his  sincere,  earnest 
manner  won  St.  Gemme's  admiration. 

"I  have  need  to  go  to  Cahokia."  said  St. 
Gemme,  "and  thence  to  Peoria,  in  order  to  ex- 
amine certain  papers  in  regard  to  grants.  Do 
you  come,  and  then  you  may  know  more  of  the 
country." 

Waring  thought  a  moment.  "So  I  will.  Just 
the  thing." 

The  third  day  from  that,  fully  equipped  for 
the  hardships  of  the  long  ride,  they  started  on 


150  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

the  trail  leading  to  Cahokia.  Late  in  the  even- 
ing they  came  to  French  Village,  a  neat  little 
settlement  near  a  large  eminence. 

"See  that  mound,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 
"That  is  called  Big  Mound.  A  few  years  ago 
an  order  of  monks  were  established  there.  They 
were  known  as  the  'Monks  of  La  Trappe.'" 

"Where  are  they  now?" 

"Oh,  they  moved  away  in  1813." 

"How  did  they  ever  drift  out  into  this  wilder- 
ness?" 

"I  know  not.  They  were  vowed  to  celibacy 
and  to  silence.  I  have  spoken  to  a  number  of 
them,  but  they  were  as  silent  as  the  grave  to  me. 
No  woman  could  walk  on  their  premises.  If 
"any  did  so  by  accident,  their  tracks  would  im- 
mediately be  swept  away  with  aversion." 

This  remark  suggested  a  thought  to  Waring. 

"Marie  is  a  graceful  little  creature,  Monsieur 
St.  Gemme — a  contrast  indeed  to  Ma'm'selle 
Beauvais.  The  latter  is  cold  even  to  hauteur, 
while  Marie  is  all  life  and  sparkle." 

"The  two  have  been  warmly  attached  since 
childhood." 

"Is  Marie  an  orphan?  From  what  was  said 
I  inferred  as  much." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  151 

"Oh,  no.  Ma'm'selle  Beauvais'  mother  died 
in  childbirth.  Madame  Dubreil  is  in  France. 
Marie  is  with  her  uncle,  Madame's  brother.  The 
child  has  a  tender  heart.  Her  devotion  to  An- 
nette Beauvais  would  prove  that." 

"I  do  not  admire  those  proud  and  self-reliant 
natures,"  said  Waring.  A  vision  came  to  him 
of  red,  pouting  lips,  eyes  demure,  the  next 
minute  flashing  saucy  glances  at  him.  He  knew 
a  little  creature  that  to  take  under  his  protection 
would  henceforth  be  an  object  jto  work  for. 

St.  Gemme  observed  Waring  closely  as  they 
cantered  along  in  silence.  "If  Madame  Dubreil 
were  here,"  he  thought,  "she  could  manage  this 
affair  properly.  It  would  not  be  a  bad  match. 
Waring,  with  his  energy  and  talent,  will  suc- 
ceed. Besides,  Marie  will  have  some  property 
of  her  own.  What  a  great  fellow  he  is." 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  was  only  of  medium 
height,  but  of  elegant  figure.  Waring  was  a 
man  of  fine  proportions.  His  complexion  was 
as  fair  as  a  girl's,  but  sun  and  wind  would 
change  that.  His  eyes  were  fearless  xin  their 
expression.  The  distance  betweeen  points  where 
they  stoped  for  rest  and  refreshment  was  beguiled 
by  stories  of  frontier  life. 


152  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

"Three  years  ago, "said  St.  Gemme,  "we could 
not  have  ridden  as  carelessly  as  we  have  to-day. 
Over  there,"  (waving  his  hand  in  the  direction 
of  Hill  Fort,)  "near  the  present  town  of  Green- 
ville, occurred  a  most  peculiar  encounter  be- 
tween one  intrepid  soldier  and  three  Indians. 
A  company  of  rangers  under  Captain  Owens 
started  at  daybreak  to  reconnoiter,  when  they  fell 
into  an  ambush  of  the  Indians.  One  of  the 
soldiers,  Higgins,  was  an  extremely  large  man. 
He  called  to  his  companion  to  'come  on.'  The 
man  cried  out  that  he  was  hit;  he  tried  to 
mount,  but  his  steed  became  frightened  and  ran. 
'Limp  on,'  cried  Higgins,  'I  will  protect  you." 
His  companion  did  crawl  through  the  grass  and 
reached  the  fort,  while  Higgins  was  left  to 
battle  with  the  three.  One  Indian  was  as  large 
a  man  as  Higgins.  Higgins  had  been  wounded, 
but  did  not  know  it  in  his  excitement.  He  re- 
loaded and  fired;  so  did  the  two  smaller  Indians. 
Higgins  fell,  but  was  on  his  feet  with  his  loaded 
gun.  The  large  Indian  must  have  believed  the 
gun  to  be  empty,  or  he  would  not  have  rushed 
on  to  his  death.  This  enraged  the  other  two. 
They  rushed  at  Higgins  furiously  with  toma- 
hawks and  spears,  and  nearly  knocked  him  down 


M          I-J- 

J?  pi 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  153 

by  throwing  the  tomahawks  at  his  head.  But 
the  dauntless  soldier  pulled  himself  up  by  the 
spear  which  one  of  the  Indians  presented  to  his 
heart.  He  took  his  gun  and  crushed  the  brain 
of  the  Indian,  but  the  blow  broke  the  stock. 
There  was  now  but  one  savage  left  to  continue 
the  fight  with  the  nearly  exhausted  soldier. 
This  happened  within  sight  of  the  fort.  One 
woman  became  excited,  and,  mounting  her  horse, 
said  she  couldn't  stand  by  and  see  so  brave  a 
man  murdered.  The  men  would  not  see  a 
woman  go  alone,  and  followed  her.  At  their 
approach  the  Indian  fled." 

"What  became  of  Higgins?"  asked  Waring. 

"He  had  fainted  from  loss  of  blood.  They 
found  him  mangled  and  nearly  torn  to  pieces." 

"Did  tie  recover?" 

"Yes,  and  lives  near  Vandalia.  The  wonderful 
strength  and  endurance  of  the  man  is  almost 
without  parallel." 

"You  were  active  in  the  campaign,  Monsieur?" 

"I  saw  some  service,"  said  St.  Gemme, 
modestly. 

Waring  had  heard  that  Monsieur  St.  Gemme 
was  foremost  in  a  number  of  engagements  to 
protect  the  settlement.  He  was  cool  and  intrep- 


154  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

id.  The  Indians  dreaded  his  fire,  for  he  was 
known  among  them  as  one  who  never  missed  his 
man. 

"Monsieur  Waring,  I  hope  you  may  never 
have  to  enter  into  border  warfare.  The  details 
are  terrible  and  sickening.  You  who  dwell  in 
Eastern  cities  do  not  realize  the  ghastly  scenes 
through  which  we  have  passed  that  this  vast 
country  might  be  preserved  and  held  in  trust  for 
future  generations." 

"Do  you  not  remember  that  the  coast  has 
passed  through  the  same  fire  of  conflict?"  said 
Waring. 

When  in  course  of  time  the  village  of  the 
Peorias  was  before  them,  St.  Gemme  said: 
"Here  you  see  the  effects  of  their  late  struggles. 
Capt.  Craig  was  not  content  with  forcing  the 
villagers  to  remove  to  another  site,  but  further 
satisfied  his  revenge  by  firing  some  of  their  best 
houses.  Monsieur  Le  Croix — you  have  heard 
me  mention  him — was  in  Canada  at  the  time. 
His  fine  home  was  one  that  fed  the  flames." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

i 

THE    CEDAR    CHEST.. 

Miss  SOMERS  walked  rapidly  toward  the  Beau- 
vais  mansion,  one  morning  about  three  weeks 
after  the  day  at  the  old  mill.  There  was  no 
cause  for  haste,  only  that  this  was  Miss  Somers' 
natural  gait.  She  proceeded  by  a  series  of  jerks. 
She  did  not  walk  well  for  an  Englishwoman. 
One  would  have  thought  the  languor  of  the 
climate  would  have  taken  the  spring  out  of  her 
step  by  this  time. 

Rose  opened  the  door. 

"Is  Annette  at  home,  Rose?" 

"I  t'ink  she  is.  I  t'ink  she  is  fixin'  up  the 
rose-bush  in  the  garden.  Walk  roun'  da,  Miss 
Somers,  or  will  you  speak  with  Monsieur  'fore 
you  see  Annette?" 

"Thank  you.  Is  Monsieur  Beauvais  quite 
well?" 

Rose  shook  her  head  and  whispered  con- 
fidentially: "Hush,  honey,  dey  t'inks  he  is, 
155 


156  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

but  Ise  know  better.  I  dassen't  speak  of  it  to 
Annette;  she  won't  listen.  I  is  uneasy — I  is, 
indeed." 

"I  think  your  fears  are  groundless,  Rose.  I 
will  not  disturb  Monsieur  Beauvais,  but  go 
directly  to  the  garden." 

"Dey's  nothing  serious  yet,  Miss  Somers.  I 
must  speak  of  it  to  some  one.  'Pears  like  it 
must  come  off  my  mind.  But  he  does  act  a 
little  strange  dese  days.  He  does  for  sure,  Miss 
Somers." 

"Never  mind,  Rose,  it  will  be  all  right.  Say 
nothing  of  this  to  any  one  else,"  said  Miss 
Somers,  as  she  hastened  away.  She  did  not 
wish  to  discuss  family  affairs  with  a  servant. 

Annette  was  attempting  to  fasten  a  rose  that 
had  escaped  from  its  frame.  The  garden  was 
laid  out  according  to  the  French  plan — neat  beds 
of  vegetables  bordered  with  flowers  around  the 
edges. 

Miss  Somers  stooped  to  pick  some  of  the 
fragrant  old-fashioned  pinks. 

"Annette,  I  wish  you  and  Marie  to  walk  with 
me  to  Shadrach  Bond's  place.  My  sister  is 
very  desirous  of  a  receipt  Mrs.  Bond  promised 
her." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  157 

"Ah,  yes,  thank  you,  Ma'm'selle.  I  shall  be 
so  pleased  to  accompany  you,  and  also  to  assist 
Madame." 

Miss  Somers  remained  in  the  garden  while 
Annette  went  into  the  house  to  change  her  gown. 
When  she  reappeared  they  immediately  set  out 
for  Marie's,  to  invite  her  to  join  them. 

" I  never  need  to  be  persuaded,  dear  Ma'm'- 
selle. You  know  how  willing  I  am  to  be  in  your 
company." 

"Thank  you,  Marie." 

They  were  soon  in  the  cultivated  fields  about 
the  Bond  place. 

"How  Monsieur  Bond  loves  the  fox-hunting! 
Next  fall,  Annette,  you  will  be  awakened  from 
many  a  morning  nap  by  the  hounds  rushing  over 
the  'commons,'  barking  vociferously  as  they 
pass,  and  Monsieur  Bond  hoarsely  calling  them 
after  him.  His  friends  say  that  he  keeps  a  fine 
pack  of  hounds." 

"His  friends  think  he  has  a  good  chef  also, 
Marie.  They  love  to  meet  around  his  hospita- 
ble board." 

"He  is  handsome,  Annette,  now  isn't  he?" 

"You  think  all  tall  men  are  handsome,  Marie. 
How  is  that?  Is  Monsieur  Waring  handsome 
too?"  teased  Annette. 


158  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Oh,  Annette,"  said  Marie,  looking  confused. 

They  were  near  the  house.  It  was  a  two-story 
mansion,  built  of  brick.  There  were  rooms  on 
both  sides  of  the  large  hall  passing  through  the 
center.  Handsome  casings  of  walnut  framed 
the  door  and  windows.  The  railing  and  stairs 
were  of  the  same  wood. 

Mrs,  Bond's  greeting  was  dignified.  A  re- 
served woman  in  plain,  dark  attire,  but  with  a 
white  gauze  kerchief  over  the  neat  dress,  and  a 
white  cap  on  her  head.  It  was  her  habit  to 
wear  these  accessories.  A  woman,  however,  of 
great  kindness  of  heart. 

Miss  Somers  inquired  after  the  health  of  her 
family. 

"The  children  are  well.  Shadrach  is  away  so 
much.  All  the  talk  at  the  table  is  about  the  pro- 
posed State.  The  gentlemen  get  quite  warm 
over  it  at  times." 

"There  are  some  people  opposed,  of  course?" 
answered  Miss  Somers. 

"There  are  always  a  certain  class  who  oppose 
every  measure  that  comes  up.  It  is  their  nature 
to  dislike  change.  How  is  your  sister,  Madame 
Chartran,  to-day?" 

"As  usual,  thank  you." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  159 

"Are  the  flowers  doing  well?" 

"In  excellent  order." 

The  good  ladies  continued  to  chat  upon  various 
domestic  topics.  In  the  meantime,  Minerva 
Humphreys,  a  niece  of  Mrs.  Bond,  had  taken 
Annette  and  Marie  for  a  walk  about  the  grounds. 

Then  an  idea  came  into  her  mind. 

"Girls,"  she  said,  "come.  I  wish  to  show  you 
something." 

They  followed  her  eagerly  as  she  led  them  to 
a  room  under  the  roof. 

"See  this  chest—" 

"Ah!  ah!" 

"What  do  you  suppose  that  to  be?"  she  said, 
holding  up  a  bodice  of  white  satin. 

"Short  puff  for  sleeves,"  said  Marie. 

"Rounded  neck,"  said  Annette. 

"That  was  Aunt  Bond's  wedding  waist.  Who 
would  think  to  see  her  now  that  she  ever  was 
inside  of  that  waist  ?  See,  here  is  a  lisse  ker- 
chief edged  with  lace  that  goes  with  it." 

"What  is  this?"  said  Marie,  diving  into  the 
cedar  chest. 

"Ah,  a  lace  cap." 

"I  tell  you,  girls,"  said  Marie,  clapping  her 
hands,  "let  us  dress  in  these  costumes  and  go 


160  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

down  and  call  on  Miss  Somers  and  Aunt  Bond 
in  the  parlor." 

Marie's  eyes  sparkled.  "Here,  Annette,  you 
take  the  wedding  dress.  You  are  the  most 
slender." 

Marie  chose  a  blue  of  a  delicate  shade,  made 
with  flowing  sleeves;  Miss  Humphreys,  a  stiff 
brocade  that  rustled  as  she  walked.  Annette 
arrayed  herself  in  the  satin  waist,  and  a  skirt  of 
soft  white  mousseline,  made  with  a  scant  skirt; 
the  rounded  arms  were  bare  below  the  puffed 
sleeves,  her  beautiful  neck  and  shoulders  covered 
with  the  square  of  lisse,  which  only  enhanced 
their  charm.  She  had  thrown  one  of  the  lace 
caps  coquettishly  over  the  waves  of  her  dark  hair. 
She  made  a  low  courtesy  to  the  girls. 

"Annette,  charmante"  cried  Marie.  "You 
do  not  look  like  yourself,  or  anybody  else  I  ever 
saw,"  she  added. 

"What  will  Madame  Bond  say?" 

"Come,"  said  Marie,  leading  the  way.  She 
smiled  mischievously  at  the  astonishment  of  the 
ladies,  whose  chat  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  the  trio. 

Mary  and  Ellen  Bond,  two  little  girls,  were 
in  their  wake,  with  wide-open  eyes. 


OLD  'KASKI/t  DAYS  161 

"Madame  Bond  holds  a  levee  to-day,  does  she 
not?"  said  Marie  demurely.  She  courtsied  very 
low  indeed  to  Madame,  with  a  lovely  grace. 

"Certainly,  my  dear,  "Mrs.  Bond  replied.  "It 
is  a  great  pleasure,  your  presence  on  this  occa- 
sion," falling  in  with  the  mood  of  the  young  girl. 
But  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Annette.  In 
lovely  confusion  Annette  stood.  She  was  not 
sure  that  Madame  would  be  pleased.  She 
looked  like  a  picture  that  had  stepped  out  of  its 
frame.  "My  dear,  my  dear.  I  hope  that  you 
may  live  to  be  as  happy  as  I  was  when  I  wore 
that  gown,"  said  Mrs.  Bond,  a  pensive  look  on 
her  face. 

"Thank  you,  Madame." 

"I  had  forgotten  mother's  brocade  was  in  that 
chest.  You  resemble  her,  and  the  likeness  is 
striking  in  that  costume,  Minerva,"  said  Mrs. 
Bond  turning  to  her  niece. 

The  girls  paraded  before  a  large  mirror,  then 
with  another  laugh  they  left  the  two  ladies  to 
continue  their  conversation. 

Miss  Somers,  having  obtained  the  receipt, 
summoned  her  charges  and  said  they  must  now 
take  leave.  With  many  expressions  of  good  will 
they  parted  with  their  kind  hostess. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A.D.    1818. 

THE  holiday  season  was  over.  The  new  year 
that  was  to  be  full  of  events  to  old  'Kaskia  was 
at  hand.  Party  spirit  ran  high  in  that  day  as 
in  this.  While  all  were  Republicans,  and  there 
was  not  the  incentive  of  party  issue,  yet  the 
wealth  of  expression  and  heat  of  temper  and 
argument  manifested  was  fully  as  great  when 
considering  the  qualifications  and  characteristics 
of  the  candidates.  The  older  and  more  conserv- 
ative element  was  led  by  Gov.  Edwards,  Pope, 
Cook  and  others,  while  Shadrach  Bond,  Thomas 
and  Kane  were  leaders  of  the  young  men. 

Elias  Kane  was  a  member  of  the  convention 
to  draft  the  Constitution.  In  'Kaskia  he  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  future  career  that  won  admira- 
tion from  all. 

If  space  permitted,  it  would  be  deeply  inter- 
esting to  consider  the  elements  that  made  up 

this  convention.     Men  whose  names  were  after- 

162 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  163 

wards  famous  in  the  history  and  development  of 
the  State  bent  their  energies  and  talents  upon 
securing  ends  conducive  to  the  welfare  of  the 
people. 

The  election  of  delegates  was  to  be  held  on 
the  first  Monday  in  July,  the  convention  on  the 
first  Monday  in  the  August  following.  The 
Constitution  was  adopted  by  the  convention,  but 
was  peculiar  in  this  respect,  that  it  was  not 
submitted  to  a  vote  of  the  people.  The  articles, 
eight  in  all,  were  adapted  to  the  needs  of  the 
people. 

Antoine  went  with  St.  Gemme  and  Waring. 
They  were  in  the  lists  supporting  Bond  and 
Thomas  in  general  views.  Antoine  had  just 
attained  his  majority  and  was  duly  filled  with  a 
sense  of  his  dignity  and  importance  as  a  part  of 
the  convention. 

Waring  was  eagerly  interested,  for  here  was 
an  opportunity  to  use  his  powers  of  oratory. 

St.  Gemme  had  been  mixed  up  with  the  affairs 
of  the  Territory  for  a  length  of  time  and  was 
really  interested  that  the  measures  proposed  for 
the  new  government  should  be  wise  and  efficient. 
The  Governor  and  Lieutenant  Governor  were  to 
be  elected  by  the  people,  the  other  officers  by 
the  Assembly. 


164  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

The  State  government  was  to  be  established 
in  October. 

"Ah,  that  is  as  it  should  be;  very  good,"  said 
Monsieur  Beauvais.  "Monsieur  Bond  is  prudent 
and  sagacious  and  will  make  a  wise  head.  And 
Pierre  Menard,  do  we  not  all  know  that  he  has 
been  President  of  the  Council  all  these  years? 
Did  you  say  that  now  he  would  be  the  presiding 
officer  of  the  Senate?  Ah,  that  is  well,  that  is 
just  as  it  should  be." 

Monsieur  Beauvais,  like  many  others,  although 
opposed  to  any  change,  was  entirely  willing  to 
reap  the  benefit  that  might  accrue  from  a  new 
order  of  things. 

During  the  excitement  of  the  various  elections 
Antoine  was  drawn  into  close  contact  with  a 
class  of  associates  whose  influence  upon  him  was 
of  an  objectionable  nature.  He  was  much  away 
from  home.  Annette  sadly  missed  their  old 
companionship.  In  fact,  their  intimacy  had  not 
been  the  same  since  he  returned  from  New 
Orleans.  His  outlook  was  broader  now.  Affairs 
and  men  interested  him  more.  During  the  fall 
he  and  Louis  spent  much  time  in  the  hunt. 

"Louis,  you  are  more  at  home  with  us  than 
in  'Le  Vieux  Village. '" 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  165 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  you  say  so,  Antoine,  for 
I  am  here  the  greater  part  of  the  season.  Grand- 
pere  Valle  complains  most  dolefully  of  my  deser- 
tion. But  the  old  house  is  gloomy.  The  grand- 
pere  is  fond  of  dozing  in  his  chair.  Now  what 
am  I  to  do  while  he  is  engaged  in  that  manner?" 

"The  young  girls — they  would  be  glad  of  your 
society,"  said  Antoine. 

"It  may  be,"  said  Louis  indifferently.  "I  know 
not  why  I  am  so  attached  to  'Kaskia,  unless  be- 
cause it  was  my  mother's  home."  To  Louis  this 
was  a  sacred  memory.  He  had  idolized  his 
mother. 

"I  do  not  remember  rny  mother.  I  think  that 
if  she  had  lived  my  home  would  have  been  a 
brighter  one." 

"But  you  are  better  off  than  I.  You  have  your 
sister.  Annette  is  good  and  kind  to  you." 

"Yes,"  answered  Antoine,  feeling  a  twinge  of 
regret  that  he  had  neglected  Annette's  claims  of 
late. 

.  Louis  was  two  years  older  than  Antoine. 
The  scenes  that  'Kaskia  had  passed  through 
that  fall  aroused  his  enthusiasm.  Heretofore  the 
pleasures  of  life  had  sufficed  for  him.  His  grand- 
father had  sent  him  to  school  two  years  .at  the 


166  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

college  in  Maryland.  He  had  not  been  neglected 
as  too  many  of  the  French  were.  Even  those  who 
had  been  themselves  educated  had  been  careless 
in  regard  to  their  children's  needs.  The  country 
was  not  in  a  condition  to  favor  schools. 

Antoine's  accomplishments  were  those  of  the 
manly  sports,  in  which  he  was  an  expert.  He 
was  surprised  at  the  earnestness  with  which 
Louis  said: 

"Antoine,  did  you  read  that  line  in  the 
Herald?"  He  lifted  his  head  and  added  with 
flashing  eyes:  "Some  day  I  too  will  represent 
the  people  in  Congress." 

"How  will  you  go,  Louis?"  asked  Antoine  with 
a  laugh.  "Will  you  and  Madame  Valle  make 
the  long  distance  from  here  to  Washington  on 
horseback,  as  did  Gov.  Bond  and  his  lady?" 

Louis  flushed  at  the  question. 

"Which  one  of  the  reigning  belles  is  to  own 
your  heart,  Louis?" 

"That  fair  one  is  yet  to  appear." 

"You  are  much  too  obdurate." 

"The  walls  of  my  fortress  will  tumble  all  at 
once,  some  day,"  said  Louis,  gayly,  and  changed 
the  subject. 

At  the  end  of  the  day   their   long   tramp   had 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  167 

brought  them  within  sight  of  Henry  Leven's. 
The  night  was  settling  down  in  gloom. 

"No  stars  to-night,  Antoine." 

They  were  tired.  The  game  bags  were  heavily 
weighted.  But  as  the  light  shone  brighter  on  a 
nearer  approach,  they  involuntarily  quickened 
their  steps  at  the  thought  of  rest  and  shelter. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  FROLIC  AT  LEVEN'S. 

THEY  were  not  far  from  Henry  Leven's  place. 

The  young  men,  tired  as  they  were  with  the 
long  tramp  and  the  weight  of  the  heavy  game 
bags  they  carried,  hastened  their  steps  as  the 
lights  shone  brighter  on  a  nearer  approach,  and 
the  faint  tones  of  a  violin  fell  upon  their  ears. 

Refreshment  and  shelter  were  at  hand,  but 
the  murmur  of  voices  and  occasional  loud  laugh- 
ter indicated  that  some  merrymaking  was  going  on 
within  the  house.  When  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  in  response  to  a  'sharp  rap  by  Antoine,  a 
lively  scene  presented  itself.  Henry  Leven's 
daughter  was  standing  on  a  stool  in  one  corner, 
her  nimble  fingers  were  chasing  a  familiar  air 
over  the  strings,  and  the  flying  feet  of  several 
couples  on  the  floor  kept  time  to  the  inspiring 
music.  The  eyes  of  the  girl  were  gleaming  with 
fun,  her  cheeks  a  bright  red,  her  hair  disarranged 

somewhat  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment. 

168 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  169 

"A  dance  at  Leven's!  How  lucky  we  are, 
Louis,"  said  Antoine,  in  an  undertone,  as  the 
crowd  rushed  over  the  puncheon  floor  and  cried 
in  eager  voices  to  the  new-comers: 

"Come  in,  come  in." 

"Ah,  Antoine,  you  have  good  fortune,"  ex- 
claimed a  girl  of  sixteen,  with  eyes  like  stars  and 
a  dimple  on  either  side  of  the  pretty  mouth  as 
she  smiled  at  him  in  her  greeting. 

"Yes,  Louis  and  I  have  done  a  fair  day's  work. 
You  know  Louis?"  fye  queried,  glancing  at  his 
friend. 

"No,"  replied  the  girl  shyly,  but  she  noted 
with  admiration  the  well  made  figure  and  frank 
countenance  of  Louis.  The  latter  almost  forgot 
to  acknowledge  this  unceremonious  introduction. 

"I'll  never  look  farther,"  he  thought. 

Antoine  turned  to  Louis  in  surprise,  but  just 
then  Henry  Leven  strode  forth  from  an  inner 
room  and  said  in  a  hearty  voice: 

"Come  in,  lads,  come  in;  there  is  always  a 
welcome  for  the  traveler  at  my  house — that  you 
know  well.  Can  we  not  find  something  in  the 
way  of  supper  for  them,  wife  ?" 

While  our  two  hunters  were  in  Mrs.  Leven's 
hospitable  care,  the  young  people  were  carrying 


170  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  \ 

on  the  fun  in  a  vigorous  manner.  The  bashful- 
ness  apparent  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  evening 
had  now  worn  away,  and  the  enjoyment  was  at 
its  height. 

A  number  were  ,out  from  the  village,  Baptiste 
and  Marie  among  the  rest.  A  few  of  the  elders 
were  always  at  these  gatherings  to  see  that  the 
hilarity  was  not  beyond  bounds,  although  they 
would  take  part  with  the  others  in  the  frolic. 

When  Antoine  and  Louis  reappeared  there 
was  a  universal  call:  "Come,  take  partners; 
we  are  just  forming  another  set."  No  amount 
of  protest  would  excuse  them. 

"Antoine,  you  need  not  say  that  you  are  tired," 
pouted  Marie,  "for,  if  there  was  a  deer  in  sight, 
you  would,  with  that  heavy  gun,  follow  it  for 
miles."  And  she  tossed  her  pretty  head. 

"Well,  cousin,  just  because  it  is  you,  "he  said, 
taking  her  hand  and  leading  her  to  the  position 
of  head  lady;  then,  bowing  with  mock  deference, 
Jie  asked  whether  she  was  satisfied. 

"Louis,"  he  cried,  "be  our  opposite." 

But  Louis  was  searching  for  Julie.  She  had 
gone  into  another  apartment  and  was  sitting 
quietly  by  the  side  of  her  married  sister.  When 
he  had  found  her,  he  said  in  a  low  voice:  "May 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  171 

I  not  have  the  pleasure  of  the  next  dance?"  and 
his  eyes  looked  beseechingly  into  hers.  There 
were  few  girls  that  could  withstand  an  appeal 
from  Louis,  for  they  liked  him  instinctively  and 
were  disposed  to  please  him.  Julie  arose  and 
they  took  their  place  on  the  floor.  Baptiste  and 
the  daughter  of  Henry  Leven  were  to  the  left 
of  Marie,  while  one  of  the  sons  of  the  house  and 
his  fiancee  formed  the  fourth  couple. 

Louis  endeavored  to  keep  up  a  desultory  con- 
versation in  the  pauses  of  the  dance,  but  Julie 
was  unusually  reticent. 

"What,  Julie  trying  to  be  dignified  ?"  whispered 
Baptiste  to  Marie  as  he  passed  her. 

"Impossible." 

"Why  impossible?"  he  answered.  :i Julie  is  a 
sweet  girl — 

"What  says  Louis  just  now,  Baptiste?  See 
how  she  smiles  and  blushes?" 

"What  does  one  say  to  a  pretty  girl?  Some 
compliment,  of  course." 

Louis  was  telling  Julie  of  an  incident  that  his 
grandfather  had  related  scores  of  times.  "Your 
father  acted  nobly  on  that  occasion." 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur.  I  have  heard  him  say 
that  he  did  only  what  he  considered  to  be  his 
duty." 


172  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"I  have  often  thought  that  I  should  like  to 
meet  Monsieur,"  said  Louis. 

"I  doubt  not  but  that  it  would  give  him  pleas- 
ure to  see  you  at  his  home  when  he  learns  that 
your  grandfather  was  his  old  Colonel,"  she  said 
gravely.  If  she  suspected  anything,  she  did  not 
show  it  by  her  manner. 

"I  shall  be  only  too  happy,"  he  commenced, 
but  a  "Chassez  allez"  interrupted  his  sentence. 

"Glances  from  starry  eyes  are  deadly  lances," 
teased  Marie  as  she  passed  him  in  the  dance. 

"Nonsense,"  Louis  replied,  but  he  looked  in- 
voluntarily in  the  direction  of  the  beautiful  eyes. 

Julie  was  simply  attired,  but  she  wore  her 
plain  gown  with  an  air  that  a  society  belle  might 
have  envied,  for  there  was  a  harmony  of  outline 
in  the  apparent  simplicity — the  most  difficult 
effect  to  be  achieved  by  art. 

Figure  followed  figure  until  even  Marie  was 
willing  to  cry  "enough."  A  Virginia  reel  suc- 
ceeded this  set,  and  yet  another,  until  Henry 
Leven  called,  "Hold  there,  it  is  time  that  you 
should  rest — and  count  your  apple  seeds,"  he 
added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  In  his  hands 
he  bore  a  pan  of  tempting  apples,  which  he  pro- 
ceeded to  offer  to  the  company.  Plates  piled 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  173 

high  with  Mother  Leven's  ginger-bread  were  then 
brought  out,  and  pails,  in  which  were  placed 
gourds  for  dippers,  for  the  use  of  those  who  per- 
chance might  be  thirsty,  and  it  may  be  that,  while 
one  contained  water,  the  contents  of  others 
had  more  or  less  of  that  same  tafia  that  formed 
part  of  the  early  cargoes. 

Impromptu  seats  had  been  placed  around  the 
room.  They  were  made  of  rough  planks  taken 
from  the  mill,  and  the  ends  supported  by  chairs 
or  stools.  A  high  fire-place  was  on  one  side,  in 
which  a  few  embers  were  burning  brightly,  but, 
fortunately  for  the  dancers,  the  chimney  was 
capacious,  and  swallowed  up  the  heat  given  off 
by  the  blaze. 

Louis  and  Julie  were  seated  a  little  apart. 

"Were  is  Annette  to-night?" 

"She  cares  not  for  these  gatherings — so  says 
Marie." 

"Poor  Annette  is  too  grave  for  a  girl  of  her 
years;  it  is  not  becoming." 

"Do  you  not  like  a  girl  to  be  serious?"  asked 
Julie,  a  smile  lurking  around  the  corners  of  her 
mouth. 

"I  do,  sometimes,"  answered  Louis  with  a 
meaning  look. 


174  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Julie  blushed  and  turned  the  subject  by  say- 
ing, "Ah,  you  have  not  named  the  apple." 

"Yes,  but  I  have,"  he  replied  in  a  gay  tone. 

"Then  I  must  count  the  seeds."  And  she  laid 
them  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  and  in  a  mock- 
serious  manner  concluded  with: 

'  'Eleven,  he  courts, 
Twelve,  he  marries. " 

"Is  not  that  a  good  fortune?  There,  it  is  all 
settled  for  me.  "Whom  did  you  name  it,  Mon- 
sieur?" 

"I  am  glad  that  it  is  settled,"  he  answered,  a 
wonderful  light  coming  into  his  countenance, 
"for  I  named  it  myself.  Shall  we  let  it  stand, 
Julie?" 

She  looked  frightened  at  the  intensity  of  his 
tones,  and,  hesitating  a  moment,  replied:  "I 
do  not  think  I  quite  understand  you,  Monsieur 
Valle." 

"Yeg,  you  do,  Julie,"  he  answered  quietly. 
"What  say  you,  Ma'm'selle?"  Julie  remained 
silent.  "On  your  heart,  Julie,  you  consent,"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice  as  he  bent  forward  as  if  to 
pick  up  a  forgotten  core  that  had  fallen  to  the 
floor. 

It  was  one  of  those  cases  of  which   we  read, 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  175 

but  no  one  believes  in  their  actual  occurrence. 

"Come!  on  with  the  dance!"  And  the  crowd 
arose,  and  there  was  a  rush  for  places  and  shouts 
of  laughter  over  unsuccessful  attempts  to  main- 
tain positions.  Julie  knew  not  what  to  think  the 
remainder  of  the  evening.  Was  Louis  in 
earnest  or  not,  or  was  their  conversation  merely 
a  byplay  to  him?  He  seemed  to  be  entirely 
engrossed  with  others  and  gave  no  further  notice 
to  her;  hence  she  could  not  decide. 

Marie  was  loth  to  give  up  the  dance,  but  the 
elders  announced  in  a  very  decided  way  that  it  was 
quite  time  to  take  leave  of  their  kind  friends.  In 
the  bustle  of  the  departure,  while  adieus  were  be- 
ing said,  and  refractory  horses,  tired  with  stand- 
ing, must  be  quieted,  Louis  found  an  opportunity 
to  whisper  in  Julie's  ear:  "I  shall  see  you  within 
the  next  fortnight,"  and,  taking  her  hand  in  his, 
touched  his  lips  to  it  lightly  in  cover  of  the 
friendly  darkness. 

Julie  spoke  no  word  on  the  homeward  ride. 

"What  ails  thee?"  asked  the  married  sister; 
"art  weary  with  the  tripping  of  the  dance?" 

There  were  tears  in  Julie's  eyes,  and  had  she 
endeavored  to  reply,  it  would  surely  have  been 
in  a  tearful  voice. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

SCHEMES. 

"ANTOINE,  papa  is  not  so  well  this  winter. 
Do  you  not  see  it?" 

"I  have  seen  that  he  is  more  infirm,  and  that 
he  cares  less  to  be  out." 

Annette  observed  him  carefully.  "That  is  all 
he  sees.  What  ails  Antoine  these  days?"  So 
ran  her  thoughts,  but  she  said:  "If  you  meet 
Dr.  Fisher  ask  him  to  drop  in  some  time  just  as 
if  it  were  a  call.  Papa  would  not  listen  to  our 
consulting  a  physician  regularly,  as  if  it  were 
serious." 

"Why,  Annette,  do  you  think  there  is  need 
of—" 

"I  think,  Antoine,  we  should  not  be  neglectful." 

The  Doctor  called  that  week.  Monsieur 
Beauvais  enjoyed  his  cheerful  conversation.  He 
remained  some  time  with  Monsieur.  Annette 
found  occasion  to  speak  with  him  alone  before 

he  left, 

176 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  177 

Dr.  Fisher  confirmed  her  suspicions,  but  said 
there  was  no  reason  for  immediate  alarm,  unless 
a  shock  of  some  kind  should  befall  him.  Annette 
thanked  the  Doctor  for  his  interest. 

"I  shall  have  his  case  in  mind,"  said  the 
Doctor,  kindly.  " Do  not  be  disturbed,  Annette. " 

"I  can  not  help  the  uneasy  feeling.  I  have 
had  this  dread  for  months.  You  will  not 
mention  this  to  any  one?" 

"Assuredly  not,  child."     She  looked  relieved. 

Baptiste  of  late  had  been  very  friendly  in  his 
overtures  to  Antoine.  It  had  become  a  habit 
for  a  number  of  the  young  men  to  drop  in  upon 
Baptiste,  after  the  store  was  closed  to  trade, 
and  indulge  their  passion  for  play.  It  was  in 
those  days  the  fashion  for  all  ranks  to  play  for 
stakes,  but  the  coterie  about  Baptiste  went  to 
extreme  lengths.  If  Baptiste^was  frequently  the 
winner  he  was  careful  that  the  sums  were  not  so 
large  as  to  excite  their  ire.  Play  was  the  curse 
of  the  age.  Some  of  the  finest  characters  among 
the  pioneers  had  gone  to  ruin  by  yielding  to  this 
species  of  insanity,  akin  to  that  of  the  victim  of 
strong  drink.  Antoine,  the  heir  to  a  vast  estate, 
was  looked  upon  as  legitimate  prey.  Baptiste 
knew  of  Annette's  deep  affection  for  her  brother, 


178  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

and  that  the  best  way  to  reach  her  pride  and 
humble  it  would  be  through  Antoine.  His  selfish 
and  calculating  nature  would  not  let  him  venture 
too  far,  but  he  felt  secret  delight  when  he  saw 
Antoine  being  drawn  into  the  vortex. 

"There  are  plenty  of  men  to  lend  you 
money,"  he  would  say  when  Antoine  needed 
stakes.  Monsieur  Beauvais  had  a  horror  of 
debt,  and  was  opposed  to  gaming.  Antoine 
dared  not  apply  to  him  for  money. 

A  certain  Charles  Le  Fevre  made  his  appear- 
ance in  the  village  that  winter.  He  had  no 
ostensible  business,  but  possessed  a  good 
address  and  a.ca.reless&on/i0mmt'e.  He  naturally 
'fell  in  with  the  crowd  about  Baptiste,  and  An- 
toine and  he  grew  to  be  on  excellent  terms  with 
one  another. 

Louis  was  reading  law  at  his  home  and  less  in 
'Kaskia  this  year.  St.  Gemme  was  in  Washing- 
ton, and  would  be  absent  some  months.  Edgar 
Waring  was  very  much  engrossed  in  politics. 
He  was  endeavoring  to  make  a  name  for  him- 
self. The  time  was  propitious.  The  Assembly 
was  in  session,  which  brought  many  people  to 
the  village.  Trade  was  active,  reaching  to 
Peoria,  to  Rock  Island,  and  to  the  Rocky  Mount- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  179 

ains  in  the  West.  Supplies  must  be  sent  along 
the  line  of  commerce.  On  the  other  hand,  pro- 
visions and  goods  must  be  brought  from  the 
East  and  North.  Waring  intended  to  rise  with 
the  swell  of  the  wave. 

Antoine's  intimate  friends  were  thus  engaged 
in  their  personal  interests.  There  was  a  sore 
spot  in  his  heart  not  yet  healed.  He  could  not 
clasp  hands  with  trouble.  He  must  forget  in 
the  society  of  the  gay- — something  to  absorb  him 
and  make  him  forget. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
MARIE'S  WEDDING. 

MADAME  Dubreil  had  returned  to  'Kaskia  the 
previous  fall.  Edgar  Waring  lost  no  time  in 
pleading  his  own  cause.  He  was  so  far  success- 
ful that  Madame  had  consented  that  the  wedding 
should  take  place  in  the  spring.  Marie  had  chosen 
the  month  of  May.  The  time  was  drawing  near. 
She  had  been  in  a  great  flutter  over  the  trousseau 
for  weeks. 

"The  pretty  things  that  mamma  brought  from 
Paris  will  be  most  acceptable  just  now,"  said 
Marie.  "I  do  not  wish  Monsieur  Waring  to  think 
me  behind  the  girls  at  Baltimore  in  appear- 
ance." (Waring  had  not  given  a  thought  to  that 
view  of  the  matter.)  "Annette,  would  you  wear 
the  slippers  at  the  wedding,  or  save  them  for  the 
great  ball  in  Le  Vieux  Village  ?"  (Ste.  Genevieve. ) 

"Wear  them,  by  all  means,  at  the  wedding, 
Marie." 

"But,  then,  the  Rozier  and  the  St.  Gemme 
180 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  181 

and  the  Vall£  families — I  don't  know  how  many 
more  of  the  elite  are  to  be  at  the  ball,"  urged 
Marie. 

"Then  wear  them  again  the  next  day,  Marie." 

Marie  was  very  vain  of  her  little  feet,  and  the 
new  kid  slippers  brought  from  France  were  very 
precious  to  her. 

Madame  Dubreil,  just  from  the  center  of  fash- 
ion, Paris,  was  a  great  authority.  The  brides- 
maids consulted  her,  and  other  costumes  to  be 
worn  at  the  wedding  were  subjected  to  her  ap- 
proval. Every  one  was  much  interested,  as 
Marie's  social  nature  and  bright  ways  won  friends 
on  all  sides. 

"Marie,  had  I  known  what  was  transpiring,  I 
could  have  brought  the  wedding  gown  with  me." 

"But,  mamma,  I  did  not  exactly  know  my- 
self." At  which  remark  Madame  Dubreil  laughed. 

The  next  best  thing  was  to  send  to  Philadel- 
phia. Edgar  Waring  was  impatient  on  account 
of  the  delay.  Any  gown  would  do;  why  so 
particular  to  have  a  certain  kind? 

"Ah,  but  I  am  not  prepared  to  be  a  widow. 
I  expect  to  be  married  one  time  only,  and  I  have 
set  my  heart  upon  this  particular  kind  of  wedding 
gown  for  that  one  time." 


182  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"This,"  said  Waring,  "is  an  overwhelming 
argument,  and  the  claim  must  be  admitted." 

Marie  said  to  him  one  day:  "Are  you  sure 
that  it  is  the  little  French  girl  that  it  is  best  for 
you  to  marry?  Will  your  people  be  suited  with 
Marie?" 

"They  are  at  such  a  distance  that  their  views 
of  the  matter  would  not  affect  us,"  he  replied. 
"We  understand  one  another,  do  we  not?  That 
is  more  than  can  be  said  of  Capt.  Haines  and 
his  wife.  He  fell  in  love  with  a  pretty  French 
widow.  She  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English, 
nor  could  he  speak  a  word  of  French.  He  was 
compelled  to  do  his  courting  through  an  inter- 
preter." 

"Your  French  could  be  improved,  but  I  under- 
stand you,"  she  said  archly. 

"I  am  sure  you  do,"  he  retorted.  Then  he 
said  tenderly:  "The  language  of  love  is  univer- 
sal, is  it  not,  Marie?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  the  trustful  confidence 
of  a  child  as  he  folded  hisj  arms  about  her  and 
kissed  her.  Ion 

She  whispered  softly:  "Ah,  you  know  that 
it  is." 

The  old  bell  pealed  joyfully  on    the    morning 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  183 

of  the  i  $th.  For  nearly  a  century  had  its  silvery 
tones  called  to  early  mass,  to  vespers,  announced 
the  victories  in  batttle,  vibrated  to  the  joy  in 
the  heart  of  the  bride,  or  tolled  the  sad  farewell 
of  a  departed  spirit. 

Col.  Menard,  pacing  the  long  gallery  about 
his  house,  heard  the  bells  calling  to  high  mass. 
"God  bless  the  little  Marie  to-day,  the  happiest 
one  of  her  life,"  he  thought. 

The  small  procession  of  friends  who  are  to 
attend  them  to  the  church  has  started.  The 
Reverend  Father  is  waiting  to  perform  the  cere- 
mony that  will  forever  separate  Marie  from  the 
old  life.  She  is  dressed  in  white,  with  a  long 
white  veil.  The  bridesmaids  are  also  dressed 
in  white,  with  long  veils. 

It  is  not  a  grand  pageant — a  carriage  was  al- 
most a  thing  unknown  in  this  region  at  that  date — 
but  the  faces  of  the  attendant  friends  expressed 
a  joyous  spirit  fitting  the  occasion.  Arriving  at 
the  Church  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  they 
walk  up  the  aisle,  and  kneel  before  the  altar. 
When  the  long  ceremony  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
service  is  ended  the  company  returns  to  Marie's 
home,  where  the  wedding  festivities  will  occupy 
the  rest  of  the  day. 


184  OLD  'KASKI/t  DAYS 

The  promises  to  "dance  at  Marie's  wedding" 
were  faithfully  kept  by  her  numerous  friends. 
Even  Monsieur  Beauvais  felt  well  enough  to  at- 
tend and  looked  mildly  jubilant.  It  was  Rose  who 
threw  the  handful  of  rice  after  the  departing 
couple  when,  on  the  following  day,  the  company, 
on  horseback  and  on  foot  or  in  French  carettes, 
merrily  set  out  for"Le  Vieux  Village." 

"S'pose  there  would  be  more  luck  in  the  old 
shoes,  but  dere  some  good  wear  yet  in  dese  old 
moccasins,"  said  Rose,  and  she  decided  not  to 
waste  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  POINT  OF    THE    BLUFFS. 

IT  was  during  the  latter  part  of  August  that 
Charles  Le  Fevre  and  Antoine  rode  out  of  the 
village  in  the  direction  of  the  "Orchard  Gate." 
On  the  way  they  met  a  funeral  cortege.  Four 
women,  dressed  in  black,  attended  the  coffin, 
each  holding  in  one  hand  a  candle  around  which 
was  a  bow  of  black  ribbon,  and  in  the  other  a 
corner  of  the  "immortal  sheet,  "also  black,  which 
covered  the  bier. 

Antoine  and  his  companion  drew  aside  and 
crossed  themselves  as  the  procession  went  by. 

"A  bad  omen,"  muttered  Antoine  to  himself. 

After  riding  for  some  distance  in  silence,  Le 
Fevre  said  to  Antoine,  not  unkindly:  "Do  not 
let  the  matter  worry  you.  Until  arrangements 
have  been  made  I  shall  not  press  you." 

But  Antoine  was  moody.  "I  see  nothing 
ahead,"  he  answered.  "I  dare  not  let  my  father, 
in  his  present  condition,  know  of  this  thing.  He 


186  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

has  an  absolute  horror  of  debt,  and  debts  of 
honor  are  especially  obnoxious  to  him.  He 
doesn't  care  for  play." 

"Your  luck  may  change." 

Antoine  shook  his  head  despondently.  "Fort- 
une has  forsaken  me.  I  have  pursued  her,  like 
a  weak  fool,  for  the  past  few  months,  and  yet  I 
cannot  break  off  abruptly." 

But  few  remarks  passed  between  them  for  the 
next  three  miles.  Near  the  Point  of  the  Bluffs 
their  way  separated.  Antoine  was  to  take  a 
short  cut  toward  Fort  Chartres,  which  had  been 
abandoned  in  1772,  and  Le  Fevre  was  to  follow 
the  trail  to  St.  Louis. 

"Here  I  must  leave  you,  Monsieur.  I  will  see 
you  on  your  return."  Waving  his  hand,  Antoine 
disappeared  among  the  brush.  Le  Fevre  fol- 
lowed the  trail  for  a  half  mile,  then  turned  aside, 
and,  tying  his  horse  to  a  young  sapling,  threw 
his  capote  on  the  ground  and  rested  his  gun 
against  a  tree  near  by.  The  thicket  was  dense 
on  all  sides.  He  sat  down  on  the  capote  and 
proceeded  to  take  a  scanty  lunch  from  his 
pocket,  consisting  of  a  piece  of  corn-pone  and  a 
dried  fish.  "I  will  stop  at  New  Design,"  he 
thought,  "and  then  join  a  company  of  trappers 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  187 

going  up  the  river.  It  would,  perhaps,  be  safer." 
His  repast  finished,  he  rilled  his  pipe  from  the 
pouch  at  his  side,  and  as  he  smoked,  his  thoughts 
dwelt  on  the  gains  of  the  night  before.  His 
eyes  narrowed  as  he  made  a  mental  calculation 
of  the  amount.  A  sudden  temptation  came  to 
him.  Peering  carefully  about,  but  seeing  no 
one,  "I'll  risk  it,"  he  decided.  Taking  from  his 
belt  a  leather  wallet,  he  laid  it  down,  and  was 
taking  a  handful  of  gold  from  the  belt — alas,  Le 
Fevre,  the  ruling  passion  is  strong  in  death!  A 
shot  pierces  his  left  side,  and  he  falls. 

Louis  was  impatiently  awaiting  Aritoine  at  the 
rendezvous,  which  was  the  remaining  angle  of 
old  Fort  Chartres.  The  river  had  demolished 
what  had  been  one  of  the  best  planned  and  most 
strongly  built  fortifications  in  the  country. 
Now  there  was  left  a  debris  of  old  cannon,  fallen 
walls,  and  the  stone  foundations  of  the  officers' 
quarters  and  the  buildings  used  for  magazine 
stores.  Great  trees  had  their  roots  inbedded  in 
the  mass. 

"What  does  keep  Antoine?  I  do  not  under- 
stand his  delay." 

"After  two  hours  of  wasted  time,"  as  Louis  said 


188  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

to  himself,  Antoine  rode  up  to  him,  in  haste. 
His  countenance  was  haggard  and  worn.  Louis 
was  struck  by  an  appearance  that  was  foreign  to 
Antoine. 

"I  am  selfish,"  thought  Louis.  "I  have  been 
so  absorbed  in  my  own  plans  of  late  that  I  have 
not  noticed  Antoine."  "Ah,  Antoine,"  he  said, 
"is  that  you  at  last?  I  have  been  waiting  this 
great  while." 

"I  am  late,"  replied  young  Beauvais  mechan- 
ically. "What  is  it,  Louis,  that  you  wish  with 
me?" 

"But,  Antoine,  you  seem  depressed.  What  is 
the  cause?  Tell  me." 

"Not  now,"  said  Antoine,  in  the  same  dull 
way. 

Louis  was  full  of  his  own  affairs,  so  did  not 
ask  Antoine  further  questions.  "Antoine,  you 
remember  the  frolic  at  Leven's.  I  told  you  the 
next  morning  of  my  impressions  concerning  Julie 
Bienvenu.  Antoine,  the  first  moment  I  saw  her 
I  knew  that  my  future  wife  stood  before  me.  I 
did  not  reason.  I  could  not  have  explained.  I 
simply  knew  it." 

"Well,  Louis?" 

"I  wish  you  to  be  a  witness  of  our  marriage 
at  St.  Anne's." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  189 

Antoine  repressed  a  loud  exclamation  that 
was  about  to  escape  his  lips.  "Louis,"  he  said 
slowly,  "have  you  considered  what  this  involves?" 

"I  have,  Antoine,  and  I  am  resolved  that  the 
sun  shall  set  on  Julie  as  my  wife." 

"I  say  no  more." 

"My  grandfather,  as  you  are  aware,  would  dis- 
inherit and  curse  me  should  I  marry  against  his 
will.  He  has  his  own  plans  for  me.  I  am  to  go 
to  France  at  once,  and — but,  Antoine,  my  own 
heart  shall  guide  me  in  the  choice  of  a  wife." 

"What  is  your  plan?" 

"I  told  Julie  that  she  must  consent  to  have 
the  ceremony  performed  before  I  leave  the 
country.  She  does  not  like  the  clandestine  ar- 
rangement. I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  do  the 
priest  at  St.  Anne's  a  favor  of  such  a  nature  that 
he  feels  under  obligation  to  me — a  deep  obliga- 
tion. We  can  rely  upon  him.  Now,  Antoine, 
you  realize  that  all  my  prospects  in  life  depend 
upon  the  strictest  secrecy.  Swear  to  me  by  all 
you  hold  most  sacred  that  you  will  never  divulge 
this  scene  you  are  about  to  witness,  until  I 
release  you  from  your  promise." 

"I  promise  you  on  my  honor  as  a  gentleman." 

"Swear  it,"  said  Louis. 


190  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"I  do  swear  and  pledge  myself  to  the  utmost 
secrecy." 

They  mounted  their  horses  and  started  for  the 
chapel.  The  village  was  deserted,  but  the  chapel 
was  attended  by  the  hermit  priest.  Julie  and 
her  maid  were  at  the  priest's  door.  They  had 
just  arrived  from  an  opposite  direction.  Antoine 
and  an  old  French  servant  of  the  priest  were 
the  witnesses  to  the  strange  ceremony. 

Julie  parted  from  her  new-made  husband  as  if 
in  a  dream.  As  Louis  helped  her  to  mount  he 
whispered,  "Julie,  the  Holy  Mother  protect  you 
until  we  meet  again,  for  we  shall  meet  again, 
and  under  happier  circumstances.  Heaven  will 
be  merciful." 

"Louis,  my  husband!"  How  proudly  her  lips 
pronounced  the  words. 

He  gazed  at  her  long  and  earnestly,  his  eyes 
full  of  love  and  confidence.  Louis  Valle  had  a 
beautiful  nature,  true  to  the  heart's  core.  "Julie, 
if  the  time  comes  when  you  have  need  of  help, 
call  on  Antoine.  He  is  devoted  to  me.  He  is 
kind  and  unselfish."  He  took  her  hands  in  his 
and  pressed  them  to  his  forehead  and  to  his  lips, 
then  turned  away. 

Julie  forced  back  the  tears  that  welled  into  her 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  191 

eyes,  and  endeavored  to  preserve    her    self-con- 
trol until  beyond  the  observance  of  others. 

Louis  was  under  the  necessity  of  being  present 
at  a  gathering  of  friends  invited  by  his  grand- 
father to  spend  the  last  evening  at  home  with 
him.  As  they  separated,  he  said  to  Antoine: 
"There  are  some  things  in  life  gratitude  for 
which,  if  put  into  words,  is  but  a  tame  senti- 
ment. Only  deeds  can  express  fully  and  com- 
pletely the  depth  of  feeling  that  is  aroused  by 
this  act  of  friendship  on  your  part.  If  life  is 
spared  me,  I  shall  prove  that  I  am  indeed  grate- 
ful, my  friend." 

Louis  left  his  horse  on  this  side  of  the  river, 
and,  taking  a  canoe,  crossed  to  the  other  shore 
and  hastened  to  "Le  Vieux  Village." 

After  Antoine  had  parted  from  his  friend  he 
turned  in  the  direction  of  old  'Kaskia,  which  he 
had  left  early  on  this  eventful  day.  The  full 
moon  cast  a  splendor  over  the  scene.  His 
thoughts  were  in  far  off  Louisiana,  where  moons 
like  this  had  shone  on  those  delightful  evenings 
spent  in  Monsieur  Perrine's  garden.  About  half 
way  home,  through  some  mischance,  his  horse 
was  lamed.  Antoine,  upon  examination,  said: 
"No  use;  I  shall  have  to  lie  out  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ANTOINE  AWAY. 

WHEN  Annette  learned  that  her  brother  had 
not  returned  she  was  uneasy.  She  had  felt 
worried  about  Antoine  for  some  months.  He 
was  so  restless,  so  unlike  himself.  She  knew 
not  how  to  account  for  this  new  phase  of  his 
character.  Antoine  and  she  had  changed  places ; 
he  now  was  the  moody  one.  Once  they  had 
been  closely  associated  in  every  interest;  now 
they  seemed  to  be  drifting  apart. 

"Papa  will  not  leave  his  room  for  another 
hour.  I  will  go  out  and  ask  Rose."  She  found 
Rose  leisurely  preparing  the  breakfast.  "Rose, 
did  Antoine  say  anything  to  you  about  spending 
the  night  away  from  home?"  she  asked. 

"No,  honey.  I  heard  him  tell  Risden  to  hab 
all  de  traps  ready  to  go  over  to  de  plantation. 
Mabbe  he  gone  dere." 

Annette  studied   Rose   for  several   moments. 

"Rose,  are  you  happy   here,  working  all   day 
192 


7~    M 

£  2 


:  X 
x 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  193 

long?  Do  you  ever  think  of  some  other  way  of 
living?" 

"La,  Ma'm'selle,  what  ails  de  chile?  Here  I 
got  nuf  to  eat,  fire  to  keep  me  warm,  roof  over 
head.  Dat  nuf  for  any  darky,  I  say."  Rose 
stood  up  majestically,  her  ruddy  turban  empha- 
sizing the  words,  and  a  long-handled  frying-pan 
waving  in  the  air  as  she  answered.  She  was 
indignant,  but  finally  set  the  pan  in  place,  and 
raked  out  some  coals  on  the  stone  hearth,  pre- 
paratory to  cooking  Monsieur's  breakfast. 

"Never  mind,  Rose.  I  merely  asked  the 
question,  that  is  all." 

"She'd  better  notice  de  Monsieur,  and  know 
about  Antoine's  goings-on,  dan  stand  dere  asking 
questions,"  muttered  Rose.  "You  might  as  well 
hab  your  breakfast,  honey,"  she  said,  relenting, 
as  she  saw  Annette  gazing  through  the  window 
with  a  sad  look  on  her  face.  "No  good  watch- 
ing the  way.  He'll  come  of  hisself  afore  long. 
Come  now,  Ma'm'selle,  de  cakes  is  hot.  You 
take  dem  to.  the  house,  and  I  follow  wid  de 
coffee."  All  of  the  kitchens  at  that  day  were 
separated  from  the  houses. 

It  was  late  in  the  forenoon  when  Antoine  ap- 
peared, leading  his  lamed  horse.  Several  of  the 


194  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

villagers  passed  him.  They  noticed  his  wan 
looks. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Antoine?"  said  one. 

"He  looks  as  if  in  some  kind  of  trouble,"  said 
another. 

"Trouble?  A  young  lad  like  that,  with  a  full 
purse  when  Monsieur  is  laid  by?" 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  They  tell  me  he 
is  heavily  in  debt,  and  that  will  eat  into  his 
patrimony.  He  plays  rashly.  It  is  a  surprise 
to  every  one  how  he  risks  his  money." 

"Strange,  Monsieur  Beauvais  never  cared  for 
cards." 

"Ah,  Antoine  keeps  him  in  the  dark,  you  may 
be  sure." 

"I  am  sorry." 

"A  fine  young  man  to  ruin  himself  at  play. 
How  many  of  our  villagers  do  that!"  And  the 
speaker  shook  his  head. 

Antoine  went  on  slowly,  all  unconscious  of  the 
comments  that  were  being  made  on  his  course 
of  life. 

"Antoine,  you  look  wretchedly  tired,"  was  his 
sister's  greeting.  "Where  have  you  been?  We 
were  so  worried." 

"Yes,  Annette.     I  am  tired  both  in  body  and 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  195 

mind,"  he  answered  wearily,  ignoring  her  ques- 
tion. 

"You  will  be  better  of  some  refreshment,  but 
you  haven't  told  me  where  you  were  last  night." 

Antoine  looked  at  her.  How  long  ago  it 
seemed  since  her  companionship  was  all  in  all  to 
him. 

"Annette,"  he  said  gently,  "do  not  ask  me.  I 
do  not  wish  to  speak  of  it." 

She  said  no  more,  but  he  knew  that  she  was 
hurt. 

"Very  well,  Antoine,"  she  replied,  in  a  digni- 
fied tone. 

"How  is  papa  Beauvais?"  he  asked. 

"He  had  breakfast  in  his  own  room.  I  have 
not  seen  him  yet.  Antoine,"  she  spoke  hesitat- 
ingly, "papa  must  not  know  you  were  away.  It 
may  be  as  well  not  to  refer  to  it." 

"Yes,  we  would  better  not,"  he  answered,  as 
if  relieved  at  this  arrangement. 

"Rose  will  prepare  what  you  wish."  Annette 
opened  a  door  and  stepped  out  on  the  walk 
leading  to  the  garden.  The  house  seemed  stifling. 
Her  heart  was  full  of  wounded  feeling  at  An- 
toine's  coldness  and  apparent  lack  of  sympathy. 

She  walked  up  and  down  the  path  for  a  time, 


196  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

then  went  after  some  crumbs  to  throw  to  the 
birds  that  were  flying  about.  It  soothed  her  to 
see  the  little  creatures  eagerly  taking  up  the  feast 
she  offered  them. 

After  swallowing  a  cup  of  coffee,  Antoine  went 
out  to  the  stables  to  leave  some  directions  with 
Risden  about  his  lame  steed. 

"Were  any  of  the  fellows  inquiring  for  me  last 
evening,  Risden?" 

"Believe  dere  was,  Antoine.  Yes,  come  to 
t'ink,  det  imp  Toimetre  was  heah,  but  he  not 
want  to  say  what  fur." 

"You  may  have  the  pony  ready  for  me  when  I 
get  back.  I  am  going  to  the  other  river." 

Antoine  sauntered  down  the  street ;  there  was 
no  need  of  hurrying.  He  wondered  what  excuse 
he  could  give  to  his  friends  for  disappointing 
them.  Baptiste  looked  at  him  curiously  as  he 
entered  the  store  and  seated  himself  on  the  edge 
of  the  counter. 

"What  luck  last  night?"  asked  Antoine. 

"Judge  for  yourself."  Baptiste  pulled  a  hand- 
ful of  small  coin  out  of  his  pocket. 

"Oh,  your  side,  was  it?"  said  Antoine,  care- 
lessly. 

"Yes,  but  that  isn't  what  I  asked.     We  wait- 


OLD  ^KASKIA  DAYS  197 

ed  for  you  until  our  patience  gave  out,  and  then 
sent  little  Toimetre  to  the  house,  but  Risden 
said  you  were  away." 

Antoine  looked  annoyed.  "You  needn't 
have  taken  the  trouble.  What  matter  if  I  was 
not  with  )'ou?" 

"But  you  are  always  with  us."  Baptiste  look- 
ed surprised.  ("Antoine  is  too  good  game  to 
be  spared  easily,"  he  thought  to  himself.)  "An- 
toine, you  are  not  grieving  over  your  losses  to 
Le  Fevre?"  said  Baptiste.  Antoine  did  not  im- 
mediately reply.  "You  do  look  rather  haggard, " 
noticing  Antoine  more  closely.  "That  is  noth- 
ing. Your  friends  will  accommodate  you." 

"I  have  borrowed  all  that  I  shall.  Already 
have  I  worn  out  their  patience,"  said  Antoine 
vehemently. 

Baptiste  only  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Was  he 
not  Annette's  brother,  and  was  not  he,  Baptiste, 
only  biding  his  time  to  strike  most  effectively? 

In  the  meantime  a  number  of  their  compan- 
ions had  come  in  to  learn  of  any  bit  of  news. 
Antoine  was  not  in  the  mood  for  their  small 
talk,  but  Baptiste  was  full  of  nonsense,  and  he 
was  on  the  top  wave  of  popularity  with  the 
crowd. 


198  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Antoine  soon  took  his  departure.  As  he  en- 
tered his  home,  he  met  Annette  in  the  hall. 

"Papa  wishes  to  see  you,"  she  said. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"In  his  own  room,"  she  answered. 

Antoine  would  have  avoided  this  interview, 
but  Monsieur  Beauvais  had  brought  up  his 
children  to  respect  his  wishes,  and  it  was  a  habit 
of  the  household  to  comply  with  his  requests. 
Monsieur  Beauvais  was  peevish  that  day,  and  he 
gave  Antoine  a  round  lecture  upon  spending  his 
time  in  idleness. 

"Here  am  I,  too  feeble  to  go  around,  and 
there  is  much  that  needs  attention  at  the  plan- 
tation." 

"I  am  just  going  there,"  said  Antoine,  glad 
to  escape. 

On  the  way  the  words  of  a  letter  received  a 
few  days  before  burned  into  his  brain.  They 
repeated  themselves  over  and  over  to  him: 

NEW  ORLEANS,  Rue  de  la  Royale. 
"ANTOINE: — 

"I  send  this  message  to  post  by  my  faithful  Adele.  Matters 
are  far  worse  with  us.  My  heart  fails  me.  Though  my  uncle 
is  kind,  and  if  he  could  I  know  would  avert  this  step,  yet  I 
understand  that  he  means  that  I  shall  marry  the  Senor  de 
Gonsalvo.  Antoine,  what  shall  I  do?  I  cannot  be  the  wife  of 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  181) 

the  Senor.  I  will  not,  I  say  to  myself  a  hundred  times  a  day, 
and  my  eyes  fill  with  tears  when  I  think  of  the  brief  happiness 
of  thy  presence.  My  uncle's  pride  in  his  business  standing 
will  cause  him  to  sacrifice  me.  He  is  entangled  with  the  Senor; 
the  latter  could  ruin  him  to-morrow,  if  he  chose.  Canst  thou 
not  devise  a  means  of  rescue  for  thy  poor 

"LEONIE." 

"Curses  upon  him!"  And  Antoine  clutched 
his  fist  at  an  imaginary  foe.  "Could  luck  be 
harder?  A  thousand  miles  away  from  the  one  I 
love,  my  father  threatened  with  death,  and  I 
head  over  heels  in  debt." 

He  was  revolving  various  schemes  in  his  mind 
when  Henri  met  him. 

"I  was  just  wishing  for  you,  Antoine." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  WARRANT. 

Two  days  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  last 
chapter,  the  village  was  thrown  into  great  excite- 
ment as  the  report  circulated  that  the  dead  body 
of  Le  Fevre  had  been  found  in  the  brush.  Two 
men  had  been  prospecting  with  a  view  to  settle- 
ment. Their  dogs  had  acted  strangely,  then,  bark- 
ing vociferously,  had  disappeared  in  the  tangle  of 
undergrowth  in  the  timber.  The  men  had  fol- 
lowed to  see  what  had  aroused  the  dogs.  Then 
the  remains  had  been  discovered. 

Baptiste,  who  was  always  foremost  in  any  stir, 
thought  at  once :  "I  see  in  this  my  opportunity." 

The  news  was  in  every  one's  mouth.  The 
native  French  were  peaceable  and  lived  in  har- 
mony and  without  strife,  but  of  late  pioneers  of 
all  classes  were  entering  the  new  State.  A  sense 
of  outraged  justice  was  felt  spontaneously,  and 
there  was  talk  of  law  and  of  bringing  the  guilty 
one  to  punishment.  In  such  times  of  fever  heat, 

200 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  201 

suspicions  gather,  and  almost  any  one,  upon  a 
slight  pretext,  will  be  accused  of  complicity. 
There  was  one  incident  that  occurred  at  the 
inquest. 

"Why,  that  is  Antoine  Beauvais'  knife.  It 
has  a  peculiar  handle,"  said  Baptiste  in  feigned 
astonishment. 

"So  it  is,"  said  a  bystander.  "I've  seen  him 
with  it  a  dozen  times." 

"Yes,"  said  Antoine,  "where  did  you  find  it?" 
Then  he  saw,  with  a  shudder,  that  there  were 
blood-stains  upon  it.  "I  lent  the  knife  to  Le 
Fevre  just  as  we  parted  at  the  'Point  of  the 
Bluffs.'"  He  reached  out  his  hand  for  the  knife. 

"No,"  said  the  Sheriff,  "it  was  found  near  the 
body.  We  will  keep  that  for  the  present." 

"In  which  direction  did  you  go  then?"  asked 
a  neighbor  of  Antoine  in  low  tones.  "Did  you 
see  any  one  prowling  about?" 

"No,"  said  Antoine,  answering  only  the  last 
question.  He  then  turned  away.  He  did  not 
wish  attention  called  to  the  direction  he  had 
taken. 

It  was  supposed  that  the  Rangers  had  cleared 
the  country  of  unfriendly  Indians.  No  reports 
of  hostile  bands  at  this  time  were  heard.  It  was 


302  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

known  that  Le  Fevre  was  rather  careless,  and 
that  he  carried  large  sums  of  money  with  him. 
But  who  was  the  murderer? 

Antoine  spent  the  evening  in  writing  to  Leonie. 
He  told  her  that  her  letter  was  in  his  thoughts 
day  and  night. 

"Alas,  and  had  I  wings  that  I  might  fly  to  your  relief!  But 
you  are  hundreds  of  miles  away,  and  are  to  be  made  a  sacrifice 
while  I  am  held  here  powerless  to  aid  you.  My  father  is  suffer- 
ing with  a  malady  of  a  strange  character,  and  he  must  not  be 
excited  in  any  way.  The  chief  care  of  dear  Annette  is  to  guard 
him  from  all  worry  or  alarm.  I  am  in  a  sad  case — my  duty  to 
him — yet  when  I  think  of  my  Leonie,  and  her  equally  great  need, 
I  .am  wild.  Entreat  the  tante  to  delay  by  every  means  in  her 
power  the  dread  consummation  of  this  affair.  If  the  worst 
comes,  Leonie,  take  the  faithful  Adele  and  fly  ta  the  convent. 
The  good  sisters,  with  whom  you  are  such  a  favorite,  will  surely 
shelter  you.  Ask  them  for  their  protection,  until  you  see  or  hear 

further  from  your  devoted 

"ANTOINE. 

'  'P.  S.  A  strange  murder  has  been  committed  not  far  from 
the  village.  Charles  Le  Fevre  was  the  victim. 

"A.  BEAUVAIS." 

He  sealed  and  addressed  the  letter  in  his  stiff 
chirography  to  "Mile.  Leonie  de  Villiers,  Rue 
de  la  Royale,  Nouvelle  Orleans,  Louisiana," 
and  delivered  the  missive  into  the  hands  of  the 
carrier  to  Vincennes  who  started  the  next  day 
on  his  rounds. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  203 

The  talk  of  the  Le  Fevre  murder  was  gaining 
ground.  A  suspicious  atmosphere  was  gather- 
ing about  Antoine  Beauvais.  Some  there  were 
who  said  that  he  could  tell  more  about  it  if  he 
chose.  His  troubled  countenance  was  com- 
mented on.  He  certainly  was  unlike  himself. 

How  does  a  storm  gather?  The  scattered 
and  flying  clouds  unite  in  one  great  outburst 
of  overwhelming  disaster! 

The  day  arrived  when  two  constables  rode  up 
to  the  Beauvais  premises  and  asked  Risden,  who 
was  working  about  the  stable  door,  if  Antoine 
Beauvais  were  at  home. 

"Oui,"  he  answered. 

"Show  us  to  him." 

The  frightened  darky  led  the  way. 

"Bad  business  this,"  muttered  the  constable 
under  his  breath.  "I'd  'most  rather  be  shot 
myself  than  have  to  serve  this  warrant  on  old 
Monsieur  Beauvais'  son." 

As  Risden  turned  the  corner,  they  found  An- 
toine training  his  favorite  horse. 

"Antoine  Beauvais,"  the  constable  commenced 
in  his  court  tone  of  voice,  and  read  the  warrant. 

Antoine  became  deathly  white  during  the  read- 
ing. In  a  flash  he  saw  it  all — the  strange  and 


204  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

averted  looks  of  his   companions,  their  hushed 
conversation  at  his  approach. 

"Ah,  mon  J)ieu,  my  promise  to  Louis!" 

"Constable,"  he  said  in  a  voice  strange  to  his 
own  ears,  "I  am  not  guilty — no  one  could  be- 
lieve that." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  all  you  need  do  is  to 
prove  an  alibi."  Antoine  looked  at  him  blankly. 
"I  must  take  you  with  me.  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  the  law  summons  you." 

"You  need  not  apologize.  I  did  not  realize 
that  that  must  follow,"  Antoine  said  in  a  strained 
voice.  "My  father  must  not  know.  Mon  Dieu, 
it  will  kill  him!"  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  groaned  aloud.  "I  must  see  Annette,"  he 
added,  striving  to  regain  his  self-control.  "Ris- 
den,  find  Ma'm'selle  Beauvais." 

Risden's  usually  loquacious  tongue  was  quiet. 
He  brought  Annette  to  her  brother.  Antoine 
threw  his  arms  around  her. 

"Annette,"  he  said,  "I  have  sad  and  grievous 
news  for  you.  Can  you  bear — " 

"What  is  it,  Antoine?"  she  asked  in  alarm. 

"Annette,  I  am  under  arrest  for  the  murder  of 
Le  Fevre." 

"You,  Antoine?     There  is  some  terrible   rnis- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  205 

take,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  clung  to  him.  She 
looked  around  at  the  men  as  if  to  ask,  "Why 
are  you  here?" 

"Le  Fevre  was  murdered  on  the  i/th  of 
August." 

She    started.       That    was    the   night    that — 

She  raised  her  head  from  Antoine's  shoulder 
and  looked  into  his  eyes,  as  if  to  read  his  very 
soul. 

A  sickening  sense  of  suffocation  came  over 
him.  He  saw  the  thought  that  was  in  her  mind. 

"Annette,  I  understand  you,  but  matters  will 
be  righted.  I  cannot  explain  just  now,  but  time 
will  unravel  the  complication."  He  hesitated; 
then  added:  "Papa  is  on  your  hands,  Annette." 

As  he  said  this  Annette's  young  form  took  on 
an  additional  dignity.  Her  face,  though  pale 
with  emotion,  was  even  haughty  as  she  looked 
at  the  constable. 

"He  must  not  know,"  she  said.  "I  under- 
stand, quite,  Antoine." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

COL.    MENARD. 

ANNETTE  waited  in  vain  for  Antoine,  but  Ris- 
den  kept  his  own  counsel.  The  neighbors  did  not 
call  that  day.  People  did  not  feel  free  in  Mon- 
sieur Beauvais'  presence;  there  was  that  fine 
reserve  about  him  which  keeps  back  familiarity. 
Waring  was  engaged  in  the  preliminary  pro- 
ceedings, and  St.  Gemme  was  at  "Pain  Court." 
On  Monsieur  Beauvais'  account  Waring  would 
not  let  Marie  go  to  the  house.  He  feared  that 
she  might  be  indiscreet  in  her  remarks.  "Wait 
till  we  know  something  of  the  result,"  he  said. 

Monsieur  Beauvais  was  in  a  restless  condition 
all  day,  and  Annette  was  in  constant  attendance 
upon  him.  As  evening  approached  she  called 
Risden. 

"Why  does  Antoine  stay  so  long,  Risden?" 

"Don't  you  know,  honey?" 

"No,  what  is  it,  Risden?" 

"If  dey  should  put  him  in — " 

206 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  207 

"In  what?" 

"Dat  is,  I  t'ink  he  will  stay  with  some  of  them 
to-night,"  Risden  stammered. 

Risden  had  slipped  off  and  hung  about  the 
trial,  wishing  to  keep  track  of  his  young  master. 
He  felt  as  if  he  could  have  knocked  down  the 
whole  set  of  rascals  who  were  trying  to  harm 
Antoine.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  Baptiste's 
face  once  through  the  crowd.  An  exultant 
gleam  crossed  it  at  some  unfavorable  turn  to 
Antoine. 

The  old  French  of  high  standing  were  shaking 
their  heads  and  talking  excitedly.  Beauvais 
fits — preposterous !  One  of  the  oldest  families. 
It  was  all  the  fault  of  the  new  government.  Any 
one  of  them  might  now  be  interfered  with  and 
molested.  They  had  gotten  along  for  a  hundred 
years  with  very  little  law;  now  they  had  too 
much,  entirely  too  much. 

Annette  was  weighed  down  with  a  feeling  of 
utter  helplessness.  "What  must  I  do?"  she 
asked  herself  over  and  over  again.  "If  only 
Monsieur  St.  Gemme  were  here.  What  if  papa 
should  ask  for  Antoine?" 

Monsieur  Beauvais  was  dozing  in  a  chair  in 
his  room. 


208  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Papa,  are  you  ready  for  your  tea?" 

"Is  that  you,  Annette?     What  did  you  wish?" 

"I  thought  you  might  have  tea  now." 

"Yes,"  he  replied  absently. 

Rose  presently  brought  the  tray,  and  Annette 
arranged  all  to  her  father's  satisfaction.  Mon- 
sieur was  more  flighty  than  usual  to-night,  due 
perhaps  to  the  disturbance  of  the  elements. 

Annette  was  full  of  impatience,  but  restrained 
it  before  the  Monsieur.  Her  pale  face  had  a 
drawn  look  upon  it,  at  variance  with  her  years. 
As  she  heard  the  sound  of  the  wind  rushing 
along  the  river,  "I  feel  as  if  I  were  being  drawn 
out  into  fine  wire,"  she  exclaimed.  Every  nerve 
was  quivering.  She  arose  to  close  a  swinging 
blind.  A  thought  came  to  her:  "I  must  see 
Col.  Menard  to  night  and  ask  his  advice.  I 
must  speak  with  him."  Poor  Annette,  it  was 
not  easy  for  her  to  speak  of  family  matters. 

She  sought  Risden  again. 

"Risden,  was  Col.  Menard  over  the  river  to- 
day?" 

"I  t'ink  not,  Ma'm'selle.  I  heard  some  of  de 
darkies  saying  dat  some  of  the  Colonel's  big  re- 
lations down  from  St.  Louis — I  t'ink  Monsieur 
Choteau  himself,  and  some  of  de  Gratiots. 
Dey  have  big  times  over  to  de  place." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  209 

This  was  unexpected,  but  she  held  to  her 
plan. 

"Risden,  watch;  if  papa  calls,  say  that  I  am 
out  for  a  little  while." 

"Ma'm'selle  Annette,  It'ink  a  storm  is  coming 
on." 

The  wind  whistled  about  the  buildings. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Annette,  with  dignity. 
"Do  not  let  Rose  know." 

The  dusk  was  at  hand;  she  must  hasten. 
Throwing  on  a  large  wrap  that  completely  en- 
veloped her,  and  letting  the  hood  fall  over  her 
face,  she  hurriedly  took  a  short  cut  to  the  river. 
On  the  bank  lived  young  Charle  Danis  and  his 
aunt.  The  latter  was  very  deaf. 

"If  Charle  should  be  away — "she  thought,  but 
he  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  her  tap. 

"Charle,"  said  Annette  in  a  low  voice,  "come 
outside." 

"Ma'm'selle  Beauvais!"  he  exclaimed  in 
astonishment. 

"Hush,  and  come  with  me,"  said  the  girl. 

He  shut  the  door  and  stepped  out  into  the 
gathering  dusk. 

Annette  said  hurriedly:  "I  wish  you  to  get 
the  canoe  and  take  me  over  the  river.  I  must 
see  Col.  Menard." 


210  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"It  can  not  be.     The  storm  is  coming." 

"It  must  be." 

The  young  ferryman  would  not  be  outdone  by 
a  girl  in  courage.  "Is  it  about  Antoine?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  briefly. 

"One  moment." 

He  came  out  with  the  oars  and  led  the  way 
down  to  the  river.  The  thunder  was  muttering 
in  the  distance.  The  flashes  of  lightning  showed 
their  course.  The  waves  were  rising  before  the 
wind,  and  lines  of  white  foam  on  the  shore  were 
revealed  by  the  incessant  flashes. 

They  were  soon  on  the  other  side,  a«nd  Danis 
helped  Annette  up  the  steep  bank,  first  taking 
the  precaution  to  draw  his  light  boat  far  up  on 
the  sands.  He  was,  like  all  the  French  youth, 
naturally  gallant,  and  the  trouble  he  knew  An- 
nette to  be  in  called  out  his  sympathy,  but 
respect  for  her  kept  him  silent. 

"Charle,"  said  Annette,  as  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  brilliantly  lighted  mansion,  "there  are 
guests  here  from  above,  and  I  must  avoid  seeing 
them.  "We  will  go  around  to  the  back  entrance." 

Skirting  the  spring-house,  they  ascended  a 
little  rise  in  the  ground  and  stole  along  in  the 
shadow  of  the  house. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  211 

Annette  whispered:  "Knock  at  the  door  and 
ask  for  Monsieur  le  Colonel.  Go  quickly." 
She  shrank  back  in  the  corner. 

It  so  happened  that  Col.  Menard  opened  the 
door  of  the  dining-room  and  stepped  out  to  view 
the  coming  storm. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  lad. 

"Who  is  it— Danis?" 

"Yes,  and  young  Ma'm'selle  Beauvais  is  with 
me.  She  wishes  to  see  you  about  Antoine." 

The  wind  blew  out  the  lighted  candle  in  the 
room.  Col.  Menard  stepped  outside  upon  the 
stone  flags  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"Man  Dieu,  and  such  a  night!  Ask  her  in," 
said  the  Colonel  in  kindly  anxiety. 

They  were  standing  in  a  covered  passage 
paved  with  large  flag-stones.  This  passage  led 
to  the  kitchen.  Annette,  hearing  their  voices, 
and  recognizing  Col.  Menard's,  came  forward. 

"Ah,  my  child,  dear  child,  come  with  me." 
He  led  her  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  opened 
the  door,  and  drew  her  forward  before  the 
glowing  coals  in  the  capacious  chimney.  "Here, 
you  must  warm;  you  are  chill  with  the  night 
air,  my  child.  The  house  is  full  of  guests,  but 
here  we  are  alone,  for  Elise  has  gone  to  gossip 


212  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

with  her  people  in  one  of  the  cabins;  she  will 
not  return  in  an  hour.  Here  we  may  talk  un- 
disturbed. Tell  me  everything.  A  great  risk  for 
you,  my  child,  a  very  great  risk." 

"Col.  Menard,  my  papa  and  Antoine — "  she 
said,  brokenly. 

Col.  Menard   listened  with   ready  sympathy. 

This  trait  in  his  character,  which  enabled  him 
to  enter  into  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others, 
made  him  universally  beloved. 

"It  will  kill  him,"  Annette  continued.  "This 
terrible  accusation!  How  could  they  charge 
Antoine  with  this  crime,  and  he  so  gentle  and 
kind  to  every  one?"  She  was  trembling  vio- 
lently. 

"I  know,  my  child.  I  did  not  think  that  they 
would  carry  this  so  far.  His  refusal  to  account 
for  himself  on  that  day  is  going  against  him." 

"I  do  not  understand  that  myself.  Antoine 
has  been  sad  for  some  time.  We  have  much 
trouble,  Monsieur." 

"Yes,  I  understand  that  Monsieur  Beauvais' 
health  is  failing." 

"It  is  not  that  alone,  Monsieur,"  she  faltered. 
"It  is  not  known,  but  it  is  papa's  mind."  And 
here  she  sobbed  in  great  agony  and  distress.  It 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  213 

hurt  her  pride  to  say  the  words.  "That  has 
been  giving  way — and  the  result  of  this — of 
this—" 

A  great  clap  of  thunder  crashed  over  them  and 
reverberated  with  sharp  intonation  about  the 
cliffs  at  their  back.  The  place  was  a  glare  of 
light.  Annette  gave  a  half  shriek.  Her  nerves 
were  unstrung,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  end  of 
all  things  was  at  hand. 

Col.  Menard  put  his  hand  reassuringly  upon 
her  head.  "There,  you  are  safe,  child,  but 
you  must  not  think  of  returning  home  to-night." 

"Ah,  but,  Monsieur,  I  must — I  could  not  leave 
papa  alone.  I  am  away  too  long  as  it  is.  Mon- 
sieur, how  shall  I  break  the  sad  news  to  him?" 
she  asked,  piteously. 

"You  must  not.  He  must  be  kept  in  ignor- 
ance of  all  until  the  trial  is  over.  There  is  no 
doubt  but  Antoine  will  be  cleared.  We  must 
get  for  him  the  best  counsel  that  can  be  found. 
I  will  see  you  in  the  morning.  I  will  call  and 
inquire  after  Monsieur  Beauvais*  health,  and 
then  we  will  see." 

The  rain  was  now  coming  down  in  torrents, 
amid  vivid  flashes  of  lightning  and  roars  of 
thunder.  Young  Danis  pushed  open  the  door 
and  asked  to  enter. 


214  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

"Come  in,  Danis;  we  are  thoughtless  to  leave 
you  in  this  weather." 

"No  matter,  Monsieur;  the  rain  has  just  com- 
menced. I  think  it  will  soon  be  over." 

Annette  lapsed  into  silence.  She  would  rest 
upon  the  judgment  and  advice  of  Monsieur  Men- 
ard.  The  Colonel  saw  that  she  was  ignorant 
of  the  real  feeling  of  the  villagers  as  to  the 
murder,  but  thought  it  best  not  to  inform  her. 

The  falling  drops  now  came  splashing  down 
the  large  chimney.  The  lightning  illumined 
the  gray  walls  and  the  wide  h'earth.  A  high 
mantel  shelf  was  fastened  across  the  chimney. 
It  had  either  been  painted  black,  or  had  dark- 
ened with  age  and  the  fumes  arising  from  cook- 
ing. An  immense  crane  on  one  side  was  firmly 
imbedded  in  the  rock  of  the  chimney.  A  long- 
handled  spit  stood  at  one  side.  An  opening  to 
the  right  of  the  flue  led  into  the  oven  that  was 
built  round  about  the  chimney  on  the  outside. 
Many  had  been  the  banquets  given  by  Col. 
Menard  to  his  numerous  friends,  and  the  baking 
and  brewing  for  the  great  feasts  had  been 
brought  to  perfection  in  this  old  rock  kitchen. 

"Ma'm'selle,"  said  Col.  Menard  as  the  storm 
abated,  "you  must  have  some  refreshment  be- 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  215 

fore  you  return."  He  went  into  the  house,  and, 
taking  some  wine  from  the  sideboard  that  stood 
in  the  hall,  he  brought  it  to  her.  "Here,  drink 
that,"  he  insisted.  "I  shall  see  you  as  far  as 
the  river."  Although  Annette  protested,  Col. 
Menard's  courtesy  would  not  allow  him  to  leave 
anything  undone  for  the  young  Ma'm'selle. 

The  clouds  had  broken ;  the  stars  were  appear- 
ing here  and  there  through  the  rifts,  and  a  new 
moon  was  showing  in  the  western  horizon  when 
Col.  Menard  placed  his  charge  carefully  in  the 
frail  boat. 

"Charle,  see  that  Ma'm'selle  Beauvais  reaches 
her  home  in  safety." 

"That  I  will,  Monsieur;  you  may  depend  on 
me." 

"I  know  it,  lad." 

"Adieu,  Monsieur,"  said  Ma'm'selle,  "I  am 
deeply  grateful  for  your  kindness." 

"Do  not  mention  it,  Ma'm'selle." 

Danis  pulled  rapidly   across  the   dark   water. 

As  he  left  Annette  at  her  home  he  said: 

"If  Ma'm'selle  has  need  of  Charle  Danis  she 
will  call  upon  him." 

"Thank  you,  yes."  And  she  disappeared 
within  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  MATTER  OF  INQUIRY. 

ANNETTE  was  permitted  to  visit  Antoine  at 
certain  intervals. 

"Annette,  do  not  ask  me,"  he  said  in  one  of 
their  talks;  "it  distresses  both  of  us — I  cannot 
answer  you." 

"But,  Antoine,  they  say:  'If  he  is  innocent, 
why  does  he.  not  state  where  he  was  and  so 
end  it?'" 

Antoine  looked  at  her,  and  in  his  eyes  was 
the  expression  of  the  hunted  deer. 

"Annette,  that  I  am  innocent  God  knows.  It 
cannot  be  otherwise  but  that  I  will  be  cleared." 

"But  papa — Antoine,  how  can  you  be  obdur- 
ate when  you  think  of  him?" 

A  spasm  of  pain  contracted  his  features. 

"Papa  does  not  know — "     He  hesitated. 

"I  have  kept  all  from  him,  but  I  know  not 
how  much  longer  I  may.  be  able  to  do  so." 

"Has  any  word  come  from  Louis?"  asked  An- 
toine irrelevantly.  He  had  written  a  letter 

216 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  217 

telling  Louis  of  his  situation,  but  weeks  or 
months  would  elapse  before  he  could  hope  for  a 
reply. 

Annette  left  him,  wondering  at  his  course. 

Col.  Menard  had  secured  the  ablest  counsel 
in  Antoine's  defense.  Waring  was  to  assist. 
Menard  called  frequently  at  the  Beauvais'  home, 
to  engage  Monsieur  in  conversation  upon  various 
topics. 

"You  must  have  rest,  Ma'm'selle,"  he  would 
say  to  Annette.  "I  will  sit  with  the  Monsieur 
the  next  hour." 

Col.  Menard  found  Monsieur  Beauvais  under 
the  impression  that  Antoine  had  gone  off  on  a 
trading  expedition.  He  asked  regularly,  "Will 
Antoine  come  to-day  or  to-morrow?"  Risden 
could  have  explained  had  he  chosen;  for  the 
night  that  Annette  had  gone  over  to  Col. 
Menard's  Monsieur  Beauvais  had  asked  for  An- 
toine. Risden  knew  not  exactly  what  to  answer. 

"Ah,  Monsieur,  Antoine — he  gone  away  with 
some  men."  This  answer  had  lingered  in  Mon- 
sieur Beauvais'  mind,  although  he  replied:  "Too 
soon  to  hunt,  Risden,  if  it  is  for  game." 

"I  t'ink  it  was  some  kind  of  game  dese  men 
wanted,"  said  Risden  solemnly. 


218  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  had  concluded  his  busi- 
ness and  returned  home.  He  had  heard  on  the 
way  a  garbled  account  of  Antoine's  misfortune, 
and  went  immediately  to  Waring's  office. 

"What  is  all  this  trumpery  about?    Tell  me." 

Waring  gave  him  a  detailed  account. 

"Preposterous!  Who  has  pushed  matters  to 
this  point?  A  new  clan  are  coming  in,  you 
remember." 

"Well  I  am  of  the  new  clan,"  said  Waring. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  St.  Gemme 
impatiently.  "A  certain  jealousy  of  the  old 
families." 

"St.  Gemme,  do  you  know  I  believe  Baptiste 
Lalonde  has  a  finger  in  this?  I  know  not  of  a 
certainty,  but  I  have  been  watching  him." 

"If  he  has  I  will  call  him  out,"  said  St.  Gemme 
hastily. 

"Don't  spoil  our  plans  with  your  impatience. 
These  are  only  impressions,  but  if  they  prove 
to  be  true,  I'll  help  you  out  with  it."  And 
Waring's  honest  blue  eyes  flashed  with  indig- 
nation. 

"Josephine,"  said  St.  Gemme,  after  he  had 
refreshed  himself,  "I  am  going  over  to  Monsieur 
Beauvais'." 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  219 

"Do;  I  am  sure  they  need  your  assistance  just 
now.  I  have  been  there  a  number  of  times 
while  you  were  away.  Annette  is  a  walking 
ghost.  I  believe  that  Monsieur  does  not  receive 
visitors." 

"I  shall  inquire  at  any  rate." 

In  truth  he  was  tired  with  several  days'  hard 
riding,  but  he  forgot  all  in  his  anxiety  for  the 
Beauvais  family.  "Two  years  ago  one  of  the 
most  peaceful  households  in  the  village,  and 
now — " 

St.  Gemme  entered  the  gate  and  walked  to 
the  house.  Annette  herself  opened  the  door  for 
him. 

"  Je  suis  enchantee"  she  exclaimed  in  her  joy 
at  his  return. 

"I  arrived  to-day,  and  you,  Annette?"  he  said 
as  he  entered  the  large  reception  hall. 

"You  have  heard?"  she  said  faintly. 

"Yes,  everything.  Annette,  what  is  this  about 
Antoine's  strange  persistence?" 

"I  do  not  know.  I  cannot,  cannot  understand 
it.  Father  does  not  understand,  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme."  She  lifted  her  fine  eyes  to  his.  "You 
have  noticed  in  my  father — ?"  She  stopped,  as 
if  she  couldn't  frame  the  words. 


220  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

"I  know,  Annette,"  he  said  with  ready  tact. 

"Was  that  what  you  meant  when  you  talked 
with  me  at  the  old  mill?" 

"That  was  it.  I  had  seen  your  father  in  an 
attack  that  I  felt  was  a  warning.  He  requested 
me  not  to  mention  it,  as  he  did  not  want  his 
children  to  be  alarmed." 

"Papa  is  resting  in  the  belief  that  Antoine  is 
with  the  couriers  du  bois.  We  do  not  admit 
visitors  into  his  presence,  and  in  fact  few  come 
these  days." 

St.  Gemme  looked  angry.  He  did  not  know 
whether  it  was  delicacy  or  suspicion  that  kept 
them  away.  He  was  afraid  that  it  was  the  latter. 

"He  will  see  you,"  continued  Annette.  "I 
desire  that  you  should  see  him." 

"Thank  you.  I  came  for  that  purpose.  An- 
nette, there  is  something  of  which  I  wish  to 
speak  to  you,  but  do  not  answer  unless  you  wish." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  would  not  acknowledge 
to  himself  that  this  girl,  with  her  intense  nature, 
possessed  for  him  a  fascination  that  he  could 
not  explain.  It  pained  him  to  see  how  thin  the 
contour  of  her  face  had  become.  He  hardly  knew 
how  to  put  his  question.  He  did  not  wish  to 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  221 

inquire  into  her  personal  affairs,  but  Waring' s 
remarks  in  regard  to  Baptiste  had  suggested 
an  idea  to  him. 

"Did  Baptiste  Lalonde  have  any  thought  of 
asking  your  hand  in  marriage,  Annette?  Pardon 
me,  but  certain  things  have  led  me  to  believe 
that  such  might  be  the  case." 

Annette  appeared  to  be  annoyed.  "I  would 
rather  not  mention — it  is  a  subject  which  is  very 
disagreeable  to  me." 

St.  Gemme  asked  no  more.  He  had  the  clew 
to  Baptiste's  actions. 

"I  think  I  hear  papa  calling,"  said  Annette. 
"Will  you  go  to  him  now?" 

"Yes,  if  you  wish." 

Monsieur  Beauvais  greeted  St.  Gemme  with 
a  pleased  smile.  His  mind  was  clearer  to-night 
than  it  had  been  for  several  days,  but  St. 
Gemme  noted  with  sorrow  the  great  change  that 
had  taken  place. 

"It  has  been  an  age  since  you  were  here.  I 
have  missed  our  long  talks." 

"I  have  been  away,"  (taking  the  wasted  hand). 

"Not  for  pleasure?" 

"No,"  said  St.  Gemme,  smiling,  "you  could 
not  call  it  pleasure.  There  were  conflicting 


222  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

claims,  the  old  French  grant  being  overlapped  by 
the  British.  What  with  Virginia,  the  two  Ter- 
ritories and  our  State,  the  various  governments 
have  made  the  subject  of  land  grants  inexhaust- 
ible." 

Annette  left  the  gentlemen  to  a  discussion  of 
the  old  titles  to  land. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ALARM. 

MONSIEUR  BEAUVAIS  improved  for  some  days 
after  St.  Gemme's  visit,  and  was  able  to  walk 
about  the  house  and  grounds  to  some  extent. 
Now  that  her  mind  was  relieved  as  to  her  father, 
Annette's  thoughts  were  constantly  with  Antoine. 
The  time  of  his  trial  was  drawing  near.  If  her 
father  could  only  be  kept  in  ignorance  until  after 
that  had  taken  place,  then  could  they  take  a 
trip  to  France  and  forget  this  blight  upon  their 
house.  Annette  would  not  believe  but  that 
Antoine  would  be  cleared. 

Risden  and  Jule  were  in  the  stable  one  day, 
arguing  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  situation. 

"I  tell  you  there's  a  poor  show  for  Monsieur 
Antoine,"  said  Jule.  "It  will  go  hard  with 
Monsieur  Beauvaisif  the  jury — how  do  he  stand 
it  anyway,  Risden  ?" 

"Hedoan1  know  nuffin  about  it,"  said  Risden. 

"They  say  that  Antoine   play   very   hard   and 
223 


224  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

this  Monsieur  Le  Fevre  win  all  that  Antoine 
have." 

"I  doan'  believe  it.  Nebber  could  have  done 
it,"  said  Risden. 

"They  say,  too,  that  Antoine  quarrel  very  bad 
with  Le  Fevre  before  he — " 

The  two  servants  were  startled  by  a  moan, 
and  then  a  heavy  thud,  as  of  some  one  falling. 

They  rushed  out  and  found  Monsieur  Beauvais 
lying  flat  on  the  ground.  He  was  faintly  breath- 
ing, but  unconscious.  His  face  was  livid. 

"Run,  Jule,  for  Ma'm'selle  and  Rose.  I  will 
carry  Monsieur  to  de  house,"  said  Risden  in  a 
horror-stricken  tone.  Had  Monsieur  heard  their 
foolish  talk?  No;  he  was  too  far  away! 

Risden  lifted  Monsieur  Beauvais  in  his  strong 
arms  to  carry  him  to  the  house. 

Jule  tried  to  prepare  Annette,  but  she  knew 
instantly  what  had  happened.  The  physician 
had  warned  her  that  this  might  be  the  end. 

"Bring  papa  into  his  room,  Risden,"  she  said 
in  an  unnaturally  calm  voice.  "Jule,  run  for 
Monsieur  St.  Gemme  and  the  physician." 
Others  coming  in  to  help,  Annette  left  her 
father  to  their  care  and  went  into  the  hall  and 
sat  down  in  a  dazed  way. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  325 

"Annette  is  stunned,"  they  whispered.  They 
came  and  went  all  day.  Dr.  Fisher  could  give 
them  no  hope.  Monsieur  Beauvais  might  live 
for  some  weeks,  even  months  in  this  condition. 

Col.  Menard  called  to  express  his  sympathy 
and  grief  at  the  heavy  blow  that  had  fallen  upon 
the  Beauvais  household. 

"Ma'rn'selle,  poor  child,  I  feel  for  you,"  he 
said  as  he  clasped  Annette's  hand  at  parting. 

"I  know,  Monsieur."  Her  eyes  were  heavy 
with  grief. 

Menard's  noble  heart  was  full  of  kindness  and 
sympathy  for  others,  and  he  was  touched  as 
she  turned  upon  him  her  great  eyes  with  their 
look  of  deep  sadness. 

It  was  St.  Gemme  who  told  Antoine. 

"I  alone  am  to  blame.  I  am  the  cause  of  all 
this  woe,"  Antoine  cried  in  desperation.  "An- 
nette, you  are  suffering  for  my  wrong-doing." 
He  groaned  aloud. 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  who  did  think  Antoine 
much  to  blame  for  the  course  he  had  pursued, 
nevertheless  tried  to  comfort  him  in  regard  to 
his  father  by  stating  that  Monsieur  Beauvais 
was  in  ignorance  of  Antoine's  situation. 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that." 


226  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  thank  An- 
nette's watchful  car$,"  said  St.  Gemme  dryly. 
"When  will  you  make  up  your  mind  to  break 
this  unseemly  silence — unless  there  is  a  cause 
for  it?"  he  added  meaningly. 

Antoine  looked  at  him  reproachfully. 

"St.  Gemme,  I  am  not — "  Then  he  broke 
off  abruptly.  Monsieur  waited,  but  as  Antoine 
said  no  more  he  left  without  other  questioning. 

That  evening  St.  Gemme  made  another  call 
at  the  Beauvais  home  to  see  if  anything  further 
was  needed  for  the  night.  Annette  was  with 
her  father.  She  fancied  that  he  had  some 
knowledge  of  her  presence,  and  had  spoken  to 
him,  hoping  to  obtain  some  sign  of  recognition, 
but  in  vain. 

"Risden,  you  remain  with  papa  and  call  me  if 
he  stirs,"  said  Annette,  as  she  heard  Monsieur 
St.  Gemme's  voice  in  the  hall.  As  she  opened 
the  door  and  was  about  to  take  a  few  steps  for- 
ward Monsieur  St.  Gemme  noticed  her  extreme 
pallor. 

"How  is  Monsieur  Beauvais?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

"Papa  is  lying  quietly,  but — "  She  reeled,  and, 
throwing  up  her  hands,  would  have  fallen  to  the 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  227 

floor,  but  St.  Gemme,  springing  forward,  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

He  lifted  her  tenderly  to  the  settee  that  was 
drawn  before  the  chimney  place,  and,  bringing 
some  spirits,  forced  a  few  drops  between  her 
teeth,  and  then  commenced  to  chafe  her  hands. 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  saw  him  kneeling  at 
her  side.  "Where  am  I?"  she  asked.  Then,  as 
consciousness  returned,  she  attempted  to  raise 
her  head.  "What  has  happened?  I  feel  so 
strangely.  What  is  it?"  she  asked  in  terror. 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  replied  to  her  soothingly, 
as  he  held  both  of  her  hands  tightly  clasped  in 
his: 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  Annette.  Your  over- 
wrought system  has  rebelled  for  the  moment. 
You  are  better  now  ?" 

"I  think  so,"  she  said  faintly. 

He  brought  her  a  glass  of  wine.   "Drink  this." 

She  shook  her  head. 

Then  he  said,  "Rest  a  little  while,  and  you 
will  feel  quite  yourself  again." 

She  closed  her  eyes  a  few  minutes;  her  hand 
was  still  lying  in  his;  a  sense  of  weariness  and 
depression  was  upon  her;  she  felt  herself  reced- 
ing and  advancing  as  a  boat  upon  the  tide.  If 


228  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

she  were  to  let  go  of  that  strong  grasp,  she  would 
sink  down  through  the  floor,  into  an  infinite 
abyss. 

"Annette,  you  must  take  something  to  arouse 
you,"  said  St.  Gemme,  seeing  that  she  did  not 
rally  from  the  effect  of  the  swoon.  She  obeyed 
him  listlessly. 

He  was  rewarded  by  seeing  a  delicate  flush 
begin  to  appear  in  her  countenance  as  the  stim- 
ulant acted  upon  her  system. 

"Monsieur  St.  Gemme,"  she  said  after  a  long 
silence,  "this  is  a  bitter  world,  bitter  indeed.  I 
seem  doomed  to  have  trouble  as  my  life  portion. 
I  have  never  been  very  happy  as  other  girls 
have  been.  I  brought  sorrow  at  my  birth,  and 
it  has  ever  haunted  me." 

"Annette,  do  not  talk  in  that  way.  You  are 
young,  your  life  is  before  you.  There  yet  may 
be — "  He  paused.  There  was  coming  over  him 
a  great  yearning  to  take  this  young  creature  in 
his  arms,  press  her  closely  to  his  heart  and  shield 
her  from  all  care  or  sorrow.  He  rose  abruptly 
and  walked  the  length  of  the  hall.  How  was 
his  life  entangled!  As  a  flash  it  was  revealed 
to  him  where  he  stood,  but  with  a  quick  gesture 
of  repeal,  "Shall  I  be  a  coward,"  he  asked  him- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  229 

self,  "and  false  to  life's  obligations  on  either 
hand?" 

"Annette,"  he  said  very  gently,  as  he  returned 
to  her,  "because  you  have  been  true  to  your 
higher  ideals  of  what  may  be  required  of  you, 
the  joys  and  sorrows  of  life  will  be  at  your  feet. 
You  will  rise  superior  to  life's  casualties.  One 
of  the  old  poets  has  said:  'The  way  to  conquer 
misfortune  is  to  bear  it. '"  He  raised  her  hand 
to  his  lips.  "I  will  leave  you  now,"  he  said  in 
the  same  gentle  tones,  "but  first  I  will  call  Rose." 

Rose  was  crooning  to  herself  over  the  kitchen 
fire.  "The  world  is  coming  to  an  end — coming 
to  an  end,"  she  repeated,  rocking  back  and  forth, 
and  wringing  her  black  hands. 

"Rose,"  said  St.  Gemme,  "Ma'm'sellehashad 
a  faint  turn.  Give  her  a  hot  drink  as  you  put 
her  to  bed.  She  is  on  the  verge  of  an  illness 
if  I  mistake  not."  He  passed  out  into  the  night. 

"Rose,"  said  Annette,  "I  feel  as  if  the  world 
were  slipping  away  from  me." 

"Doan'  say  that,  honey.  It  am  a  black  night 
when  the  stars  doan'  shine." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  TRIAL. 

THE  day  of  Antoine's  trial  finally    arrived. 

The  folio  sheet  published  in  that  day  made  the 
most  of  the  circumstances,  and  reported  the  case 
in  the  following  manner: 
"STATE  OF  ILLINOIS  vs.  ANTOINE  BEAUVAIS  fils. 

"The  body  of  Charles  Le  Fevre  having  been 
found  in  the  bush  not  far  from  the  trail  north- 
wardly to  St.  Louis,  by  two  men  coming  out  of 
the  Okaw  bottoms,  great  excitement  prevails  in 
the  village.  By  reason  of  various  circumstances 
that  have  come  to  light  in  connection  with  our 
neighbor  Antoine  Beauvais^?/^,  suspicion  gath- 
ered force  until  it  became  so  strong  that  Justice 
Langeois  was  applied  to  for  a  warrant  for  Beau- 
vais'  arrest. 

"A  warrant  was  issued  and  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  constable,  who  brought  Beauvais  before 
Justices  Langeois  and  Dumont  for  examination. 

The  evidence^  was  considered  sufficient    to    hold 

230 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  231 

him  for  trial  at  the  next  term  of  court,  when  he 
was  brought  before  the  grand  jury,  who,  after 
investigation,  indicted  Antoine  Beauvais  fils. 
The  prisoner  was  brought  into  court,  and,  under 
the  advice  of  his  attorney,  pleaded,  'not  guilty.' 
The  attorneys  having  signified  their  readiness 
for  the  trial,  it  was  begun.  A  jury  was  called 
and  sworn.  The  State's  Attorney  opened  the 
case  by  stating  what  he  expected  to  prove: 

"'Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  this  is  a  somewhat 
peculiar  case,  and  we  will  have  to  rely  princi- 
pally upon  circumstantial  evidence  to  establish 
the  prisoner's  guilt.  In  almost  all  cases  of 
murder  the  crime  is  committed  under  the  cover 
of  darkness,  or  not  under  public  gaze,  and  every 
precaution  is  taken  by  the  criminal  to  conceal  it. 
So  in  this  case  the  crime  was  committed  in  a 
lonely  spot  in  the  thicket.  It  will  be  proven 
that  Charles  Le  Fevre  staid  in  Kaskaskia  for 
some  time;  that  he  left  the  village  for  the  pur- 
pose, as  he  said,  of  going  to  St.  Louis,  on  the 
1 7th  day  of  August;  that  his  dead  body  was 
found  by  two  men  returning  from  the  bottom  of 
the  Okaw  River,  lying  in  the  thicket,  not  a 
great  distance  from  the  Point  of  the  Bluffs,  on 
the  2Oth  day  of  August;  that  the  prisoner  was 


232  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

seen  about  noon  on  the  I7th  of  August  with  Le 
Fevre,  on  the  trail  leading  to  St.  Louis;  that 
the  prisoner's  knife  was  found  near  the  body; 
that  the  crime  had  evidently  been  committed 
for  the  purpose  of  robbery;  that  the  man  killed 
had  no  quarrel  with  any  one  in  the  village,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  was  on  the  most  friendly  terms 
with  all,  was  popular,  a  general  favorite.  It 
will  also  be  proven  that  the  prsioner  was  much 
in  the  company  of,  and  had  lost  a  large  amount 
of  money  to,  Le  Fevre,  while  playing  cards  with 
him;  that  the  prisoner  was  absent  from  town  at 
that  time  and  utterly  refused  to  give  an  account 
of  himself  while  absent.  Taking  all  these  facts 
into  consideration,  they  point  strongly  to  the 
prisoner  as  guilty  of  the  crime.  You  will  hear 
the  evidence  and  observe  the  manner  of  the 
witnesses,  and  after  giving  it  your  careful  con- 
sideration, I  have  all  confidence  that  you  will  do 
justice  in  the  case.' 

"The  witnesses  were  then  called  and  sworn. 
The  attorney  for  the  defense,  having  stated  that 
this  was  a  case  of  the  last  importance  to  his 
client,  his  liberty,  possibly  his  life  at  stake, 
asked  that  the  witnesses  be  separated,  and  those 
not  being  examined  sent  out  of  hearing  of  the 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  233 

trial.  'Not  that  I  fear  the  conviction  of  my 
client  of  the  crime  with  which  he  is  charged, 
but  that  their  testimony  may  not  be  biased  before 
they  are  called  upon  for  examination. '  The 
court  granted  the  request  of  the  attorney,  and 
ordered  all  witnesses  sworn  in  the  case  to  retire 
from  the  room,  except  the  one  called  to  testify. 

"Mr.  Hugh  Maxwell  was  asked  by  the  Prose- 
cuting Attorney  to  state  where  he  resided.  He 
said  that  he  had  lived  in  Kaskaskia  for  many 
years. 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'This  is  a  suit  of  the 
people  of  the  State  of  Illinois  for  the  trial  of 
Antoine  Beauvais  y£/.y,  who  has  been  indicted  by 
the  grand  jury  for  the  murder  of  Charles  Le 
Fevre.  State  whether  you  know  the  prisoner, 
and  if  so,  how  long  have  you  known  him?' 

"Mr.  Maxwell:  'I  have  known  him  from  a 
child.  He  was  reared  here.' 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'Did  you  know  Charles 
Le  Fevre,  and  what  do  you  know  of  him?' 

"Mr.  Maxwell:  'I  did,  but  for  a  short  time 
only.  He  appeared  to  be  a  pleasant  man,  join- 
ing with  the  young  men  in  their  amusements, 
playing  cards  mostly. ' 

"Prosecuting    Attorney:      'Did    he    play     for 


234  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

money,  or  win  much  money,  especially  from  the 
prisoner?' 

"Mr.  Maxwell:  'He  did,  and  I  think  he  won 
a  great  deal  from  the  prisoner;  in  fact,  I  know 
he  did.  They  were  much  together,  and  appeared 
to  be  great  friends.' 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'Did  you  know  when 
Le  Fevre  left  here,  and  was  the  prisoner  with 
him  then?' 

"Mr.  Maxwell:  'I  was  at  the  tavern  when 
Charles  Le  Fevre  left;  the  prisoner  was  not 
with  him  then,  but  it  was  said  that  the  prisoner 
left  the  village  at  the  same  time.' 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'State  what  you  know 
about  the  finding  of  the  body. ' 

"Mr.  Maxwell:  'Two  men  coming  out  of  the 
bottom  of  the  Kaskaskia  River,  near  the  Point 
of  the  Bluffs,  on  the  trail  leading  to  St.  Louis, 
found  the  body  in  a  thicket.  They  at  once 
notified  the  coroner,  who  with  his  jury  held  an 
inquest,  and  upon  investigation  they  were  con- 
vinced that  the  man  had  been  waylaid  and  shot 
by  some  one  concealed  in  the  bush.  Evidently 
the  body  had  been  robbed  of  all  valuables. ' 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'Was  anything  found 
that  would  lead  to  the  prisoner's  committing 
the  crime?' 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  235 

"Mr.  Maxwell:  'There  was  nothing  except  a 
knife  that  was  said  to  have  belonged  to  Antoine 
Beauvais. ' 

"No  questions  were  asked  by  the  defense. 

"Dr.  William  Reynolds  was  next  called. 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'State  what  you  know 
of  the  condition  of  the  body  when  you  examined 
it.  I  am  told  that  you  were  called  at  the  in- 
quest.' 

"Dr.  Reynolds:  'I  was  called  at  the  inquest, 
and  upon  examination  found  the  man  had  been 
killed  by  a  gunshot  wound,  and  by  the  direction 
and  position  of  the  wound,  the  shot  must  have 
been  fired  by  some  one  concealed  in  the  bush.' 

"Attorney  for  defendant:  'What  do  you  know 
of  the  prisoner?' 

"Dr.  Reynolds:  'The  prisoner  is  of  an  amia- 
ble disposition,  not  given  to  quarrels  or  disputes. 
His  family  are  French  people,  kind,  always 
ready  to  assist  their  neighbors. ' 

"Michael  Antay  was  called. 

"Prosecuting  Attorney:  'State  whether  you 
were  one  of  the  parties  who  found  the  body  of 
the  murdered  man,  and  the  circumstances  of  the 
finding. ' 

"Witness:   'It  was  on  the  2Oth  day  of  August. 


236  OLD  "KASKIA  DAYS 

Ambrose  Levasseur  and  myself  were  in  the  Okaw 
bottoms,  and  when  coming  out  toward  the  trail 
our  dogs  began  to  bark  furiously.  We  went  to 
see  what  they  were  barking  at.  We  found  the 
body  of  the  dead  man  in  the  thicket.  He  must 
have  been  dragged.  Near  the  body  we  picked 
up  a  knife  which  we  gave  to  the  coroner.' 

"A  knife  was  shown  the  witness,  and  he  was 
asked  if  this  was  the  knife.  He  said  it  was. 

"Ambrose  Levasseur  corroborated  the  testi- 
mony of  Michael  Antay. 

"Louis  La  Chapelle  testified  that  he  had 
known  the  murdered  man;  that  he  was  friendly 
and  spent  much  time  in  play;  that  the  prisoner 
had  lost  much  money  to  him;  that  the  prisoner 
was  away  from  town  and  no  one  seemed  to  know 
where  he  was  on  the  i/th  of  August. 

"Jean  Etienne  Lafont  testified  that  he  had 
seen  the  prisoner  in  company  with  the  murdered 
man,  near  noon,  a  short  distance  this  side  of  the 
Point  of  the  Bluffs,  on  the  i/th  of  August. 

"Willaim  Morrison  testified  that  he  had  sold 
the  knife  to  the  prisoner  the  previous  winter. 
He  also  identified  the  knife. 

"This  concluded  the  testimony   of  the   State. 

"The  defense  introduced  the  following: 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  237 

"Pierre  Menard  had  known  the  prisoner  from 
a  young  lad.  'He  was  of  an  invariably  kind  and 
gentle  disposition.  I  have  never  heard  of  any 
quarrel  or  of  any  difficulty  with  his  companions, 
and  with  my  intimate  knowledge  of  his  disposi- 
tion and  character  I  cannot  believe  him  to  be 
guilty  of  the  crime  with  which  he  is  charged. ' 

Gen.  Edgar,  William  Rector,  Jean  Baptiste 
Montreville  and  others  gave  equally  strong 
testimony  as  to  the  character  of  the  prisoner, 
and  none  of  them  could  believe  him  guilty. 

"The  case  was  closed,  and  the  attorneys  pro- 
ceeded to  address  the  jury.  The  attorney  for 
the  State  waived  the  opening,  and  the  attorney 
for  the  defense  said: 

'"Gentlemen,  you  have  carefully  and  patiently 
listened  to  the  evidence  presented  by  the  State, 
and  you  will  agree  with  me  that  the  prosecution 
have  signally  failed  to  produce  any  evidence 
whatever  that  my  client  is  guilty  of  the  crime 
with  which  he  is  charged.  We  will  examine 
the  testimony  together  and  try  to  find  the  correct 
and  just  bearing  it  has  upon  the  case,  and  arrive 
at  an  intelligent  and  just  conclusion  as  to  his 
guilt  or  innocence.  If  I  do  not  repeat  correctly 
the  evidence  and  give  it  a  fair  construction,  you 


238  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

will  at  once  detect  it,  and  disregard  all  that  you 
find  to  be  wrong.  You  will  arrive  at  your  own 
conclusion  in  making  your  verdict  on  the  case. 
'"In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Maxwell,  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  parties  materially  connected 
with  the  case,  states  that  the  murdered  man 
was  staying  in  the  village  for  some  time  before 
the  dead  body  was  found;  that  he  was  a  gentle- 
man of  leisure,  who  spent  most  of  his  time  in 
play,  and  that  he  was  a  general  favorite ;  that  he 
won  some  money,  and  possibly  some  from  my 
client  among  the  rest,  but  that  the  existing  re- 
lations were  pleasant;  that  my  client  and  the 
murdered  man  left  the  village  on  the  i/th  day 
of  August,  going  northwardly.  The  further  fact 
that  a  knife  found  near  the  body  belonged  to  my 
client  was  testified  to,  and  that  Mr.  William 
Morrison  had  sold  this  same  knife  to  my  client, 
and  that  my  client  and  the  murdered  man  were 
seen  by  Jean  Etienne  Lafont,  about  noon  of  the 
same  day,  the  I7th  of  August,  on  which  the 
victim  left  for  St.  Louis.  We  have  also  the 
testimony  of •  the  doctor  who  examined  the  body 
at  the  inquest,  as  to  the  manner  of  death.  Now, 
this  is  the  substance  of  the  evidence  that  has 
been  presented  to  you,  and  with  which  they 
expect  to  convict  my  client. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  239 

"'Undoubtedly  the  State's  Attorney  will  dwell 
upon  these  points,  and  rely  upon  them  to  gain 
your  verdict  of  conviction.  The  facts  may  be 
sufficient  to  direct  suspicion  to  him,  but  does 
their  fair  and  just  application  to  the  case,  which 
you  on  your  oath  are  bound  to  give,  justify  you 
in  convicting  him  of  the  crime  of  murder,  the 
penalty  for  which  is  death  on  the  gallows? 
These  facts  may  be  the  exact  truth,  and  yet  he 
be  innocent  of  the  crime.  It  is  true  that  he  lost 
some  money  to  Le  Fevre,  but  the  most  kindly 
feelings  existed  between  them.  As  to  his  refusal 
to  account  for  his  absence  from  the  village,  and 
upon  which  so  much  stress  is  laid,  there  are 
various  ways  of  explaining  this  absence.  That 
he  was  away  on  business  for  others  which  he  is 
not  at  liberty  to  disclose,  and  as  you,  or  I,  or 
any  other  true  man  would  have  done  had  we 
undertaken  particular  business  for  a  friend,  or 
any  one,  that  was  not  to  be  made  public — this 
would  account  for  his  absence. 

'"As  to  the  knife  found,  he  does  not  deny  that 
it  was  his,  but  says  that  he  had  loaned  it  to 
Charles  Le  Fevre.  Now  take  'the  testimony  of 
our  leading  citizens  of  the  true  character  of  the 
prisoner.  They  have  known  him  from  childhood, 


240  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

and  have  seen  him  almost  every  day  of  his  life. 
The  good  deeds  of  a  man  are  remembered  and 
discussed  a  short  time,  but  if  suspicion  once  at- 
tacks a  man,  an  evil  tale  to  blacken  a  man's 
character  gathers  until  the  most  incredible  state- 
ments are  given  credence,  and  it  often  happens 
that  when  proof  of  a  crime  rests  entirely  upon 
circumstantial  evidence  a  truly  innocent  person 
has  to  suffer  the  penalty  attached  to  the  crime  by 
the  law.  Although  the  fate  of  my  client  depends 
upon  your  decision,  I  am  satisfied  that  after  con- 
sultation among  yourselves  you  will  agree  with 
me  that  there  is  not  sufficient  evidence  to  convict, 
and  that  all  these  attendant  circumstances  can 
be  accounted  for  in  many  ways  with  just  force 
and  reason.  I  am  further  satisfied  that  you 
will  unanimously  acquit  him,  and  that  in  time 
the  entire  innocence  of  my  client  will  be  estab- 
lished and  the  guilty  party  discovered. ' 
"The  State's  Attorney  in  reply  said: 
"'Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  must  give  my 
brother  attorney  credit  for  having  in  his  state- 
ment to  you  of  the  testimony,  and  in  the  sum- 
ming up  and  argument  upon  it,  placed  it  in  a 
very  plausible  and  ingenious  light  in  behalf  of 
his  client.  But,  gentlemen,  there  are  usually 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  241 

two  sides  to  all  questions.  That  a  great  crime 
has  been  committed,  a  vicious  and  brutal  murder 
of  one  of  the  people,  is  an  evident  fact.  Now, 
that  the  good  order,  peace  and  security  of  the 
lives,  liberty  and  property  of  the  citizens  should 
be  maintained  in  the  land,  laws  are  enacted  with 
penalties  fixed  for  the  punishment  of  those  who 
commit  crime  against  the  citizens.  It  is  neces- 
sary that  the  criminal  should  be  brought  before 
the  bar  of  justice.  It  became  my  duty  as  an 
official  of  the  State,  appointed  for  such  purpose, 
to  see  that  the  criminal  should  be  brought  before 
the  bar,  tried,  and,  if  found  guilty,  pay  the 
penalty  attached  to  the  crime.  You  are  espec- 
ially selected  to  hear  the  evidence,  and  after 
giving  it  consideration  to  say  by  your  verdict 
whether  the  party  charged  with  the  crime  is 
guilty  or  not.  Now,  let  us  look  back  at  the  cir- 
cumstances that  bear  upon  this  case,  and  see 
how  they  apply,  and  what  weight  should  be 
given  them  in  determining  the  guilt  of  the  pris- 
oner. In  the  first  place,  the  justice  before  whom 
the  first  testimony  was  given  judged  it  sufficient 
to  hold  him  to  answer  before  the  grand  jury. 
The  grand  jury  investigated  the  case,  and  after 
hearing  the  evidence  indicted  him,  and  he  is  now 


242  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

before  you  to  answer  for  the  crime  of  murder, 
and  on  your  verdict  hangs  his  condemnation  or 
acquittal.  Now  there  is  always  some  strong 
moving  cause  or  motive  on  the  part  of  the  one 
committing  the  crime,  and  impelling  him  to  do 
it.  It  is  in  proof  that  the  prisoner  and  the 
murdered  man  had  been  friends,  had  been  to- 
gether a  great  deal,  and  that  the  prisoner  had 
lost  large  amounts  to  him  in  play;  that  the 
murdered  man  carried  a  large  sum  of  money  on 
his  person.  Now,  to  regain  this,  the  money  he 
had  lost,  and  the  possibility  of  getting  much 
more  in  addition,  would  have  been  a  strong  in- 
ducement to  the  prisoner  to  commit  the  crime. 
There  may  have  been  other  motives. 

"'The  fact  that  the  prisoner  was  last  seen  with 
the  murdered  man  near  the  Point  of  the  Bluffs, 
not  far  from  which  place  the  body  was  found, 
the  fact  that  the  prisoner's  knife  was  found  not 
far  from  the  body,  the  fact  that  the  prisoner  was 
absent  from  the  village  at  the  time,  and  his 
utter  refusal  to  account  for  his  absence,  point 
strongly  to  the  prisoner  as  the  author  of  the 
crime.  'No  explanation  of  this  is  given.  I  can- 
not see  how  you  can  avoid  reaching  the  conclu- 
sion that  he  is  guilty  of  the  crime  as  he  is 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  243 

charged  in  the  indictment  of  the  grand  jury.  If 
such  testimony  is  not  received  to  establish  the 
guilt  of  criminals,  few  criminals  would  ever  be 
punished  for  crime.  Having  confidence  in  your 
zeal  to  arrive  at  the  truth  in  the  case,  and  by 
your  verdict  to  uphold  the  sanctity  of  the  law, 
I  submit  the  case  to  you,  believing  that  you  will 
do  justice  both  to  the  prisoner  and  to  the  laws 
of  your  country.' 

"After  instructions  by  the  court  as  to  the  law 
bearing  on  the  case,  the  jury  retired.  After  a 
short  absence  they  returned  the  verdict,  'Not 
guilty,'  and  upon  polling  the  jury  each  stated 
that  to  be  his  verdict." 

A  general  shout  was  given  by  those  in  the 
court-room,  and  "Antoine  received  the  congratu- 
lations of  his  many  friends,"  as  "The  Herald"  ex- 
pressed it.  Antoine  saw  Julie's  white,  agitated 
face  in  the  crowd,  but  she  disappeared  without 
speaking  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CONFIDENCE. 

THE  months  following  Antoine's  trial  were 
full  of  sorrow.  There  was  no  improvement  in 
Monsieur  Beauvais'  condition.  Dr.  Fisher  came 
at  regular  intervals,  not  that  he  could  benefit 
the  Monsieur,  but  it  was  a  comfort  to  Annette 
to  see  his  kindly  face,  and  to  know  that  every 
attention  was  given  to  her  father.  The  Doctor 
said  one  day,  speaking  of  her  to  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme: 

"Other  girls  of  her  age  are  enjoying  their 
pleasures  in  a  selfish  manner,  peculiar  to  the 
young,  who  imagine  that  the  earth  was  created 
for  them.  They  never  hear* the  refrain  of  sorrow 
and  trouble  that  is  constantly  sent  out.  As 
people  grow  older  that  cry  drowns  all  other 
sounds." 

"Annette  is  not  like  other  girls  even  in  her 
pleasure,"  replied  Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 

"More  is  the  pity,  then,  for  when  trouble  comes 
244 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  245 

to  such  natures  they  absorb  a  double  share,  and 
suffer  in  proportion." 

"What  is  your  opinion  in  regard  to  Monsieur 
Beauvais?" 

"He  may  last  throughout  the  spring,  or  may- 
be for  a  longer  time." 

Monsieur  St.  Gemme  dreaded  the  effect  upon 
Annette  when  the  necessity,  of  bearing  up  under 
the  strain  was  removed.  Antoine  seemed  to 
have  something  to  worry  him  that  was  peculiarly 
his  own.  He  was  estranged  from  his  former 
companions.  "If  Monsieur  Beauvais  dies,  -I  do 
not  think  Antoine  will  stay  in  Kaskaskia.  In 
that  case,  what  will  Annette  do  ?"  was  a  question 
that  proposed  itself  to  Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 

Antoine  could  not  understand  Louis'  silence. 
Leonie's  fate  he  could  only  conjecture.  Had 
she  received  his  letter  before  this  accursed  com- 
bination of  circumstances  had  closed  in  around 
him?  His  father's  condition  was  a  continual 
reproach  to  him.  He  felt  that  his  course  of 
conduct  had  hastened  the  end.  He  wrote  to 
Louis  a  second  time  explaining  the  situation. 
He  told  of  the  mysterious  murder,  the  accusation, 
his  fidelity  to  his  oath,  and  the  shadow  of  sus- 
picion that  still  rested  on  him. 


246  OLD  'K ASK  I  A  DAYS 

"I  would  leave  old  'Kaskia,  but  my  father's  precarious  state 
forbids  it.  Louis,  you  must  come  or  write.  The  Beauvais 
never  desert  a  friend.  I  have  been  faithful  to  my  vow,  at  what 
a  fearful  cost!  Write  and  explain  that  I  may  be  entirely  exon- 
erated in  the  mind  of  the  public. 

"Your  friend, 

"ANTOINE." 

Annette  came  into  the  room  as  he  finished 
writing.  His  sad  expression  pained  her  beyond 
measure. 

"Antoine,"  she  said,  "I  fain  would  know  what 
is  in  your  heart.  Why  do  you  withhold  your 
confidence  from  me?  Every  joy  of  yours  was 
once  mine,  every  grief  of  mine  was  yours." 

"Annette,"  he  said,  "I  am  indeed  unhappy. 
But  you  have  enough  to  carry  without  my  add- 
ing to  your  burden." 

"No,  no,  Antoine,  it  were  better  that  I  know 
the  cause  of  your  unhappiness." 

"Hear  me,  then.  I  am  very  much  in  debt. 
You  are  aware  how  foolishly  I  have  wasted  my 
time  and  money.  I  was  led  on  by  a  vain  hope 
that  my  luck  would  change  next  time,  and  I 
would  play  wildly  to  satisfy  these  delusions. 
But  this  hallucination,  I  trust,  is  broken  for- 
ever." And  he  shuddered. 

"But  that  is  over  now,  Antoine." 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  247 

He  looked  at  her  strangely.  "Annette,  do  you 
not  see?" — he  arose  and  paced  the  floor  rapidly 
— "the  slightest  breath  of  suspicion — it  is  un- 
bearable. I,  who  would  sacrifice  everything  for 
honor,  to  have  dishonor  heaped  upon  me!  If 
it  were  not  for  poor  papa,  I  would  not  ^remain 
here,  but  I  cannot  desert  you,  Annette — I  am 
not  base  enough  for  that." 

"Antoine,  you  have  never  been  quite  the  same 
since  you  came  back  from  Nouvelle  Orleans." 

"That  is  true.  I  have  not.  Annette,"  he 
continued  hesitatingly,  "I. met  and  loved  a  pure 
young  girl,  for  whom  my  whole  soul  calls  out  as 
does  the  traveler  in  the  desert,  perishing  of  thirst, 
yet  knowing  that  in  the  distance,  unattainable, 
is  a  spring  of  cool  and  delightful  water.  When 
in  all  confidence  I  sought  her  hand,  her  uncle, 
Monsieur  Perrine,  told  me  that  she  was  destined 
for  another,  a  handsome  Spaniard — how  I  hated 
him!" 

"What  was  the  name  of  the  young 
Ma'm'selle?" 

"Leonie — Leonie  de  Villiers." 

An  indefinable  feeling  passed  over  Annette  at 
this  information.  She  and  Antoine  had  been 
all  in  all  to  each  other.  Putting  this  aside,  she 


348  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

gave  her  attention  to  what  he  was  saying. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  Leonie  last  spring." 

"Was  she  not  then  married?" 

"No,  she  was  not  to  be  informed  for  another 
year.  The  time  has  gone  by.  When  Monsieur 
Perrine's  affairs  became  entangled,  he,  to  save 
his  credit,  insisted  that  the  marriage  be  con- 
summated. Senor  de  Gonsalvo  was  the  largest 
creditor,  and  would  be  satisfied  with  the  hand 
of  Leonie.  I  sent  her  a  note,  the  day  I  left, 
promising  to  go  to  her  assistance  if  she  were  in 
need  of  it  at  any  time.  Annette,  you  know  how 
that  promise  has  been  kept.  What  scorn  she 
must  have  for  me.  She  will  deem  my  excuse 
invented,  and  that  I  lack  interest,  or  she  may 
have  changed.  I  am  all  in  the  dark.  I  have 
received  no  reply." 

Annette  tried  to  console  Antoine  as  best  she 
could. 

During  this  conversation  between  brother  and 
sister  another  was  taking  place  in  the  kitchen. 
Rose  was  having  an  extra  cleaning.  Jule  suddenly 
opened  the  door,  "smiling  with  more  than  his 
usual  impudence,"  as  Rose  called  it. 

"You,  Jule,  watch  out  dere!  See  dat  puddle 
of  water  you  'bout  to  step  into?" 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  249 

"I'm  in  no  wise  particular,  save  for  your  sake, 
Madame  Rose.  It's  a  matter  of  no  consequence." 

Rose  wondered  what  was  coming,  for  Jule 
actually  was  forgetting  the  high-sounding  French 
with  which  he  usually  tormented  her. 

"It  am  of  great  consequence  if  you  step  on 
dat  floor  dat  is  clean."  And  she  threw  out  the 
window  on  its  hinges,  sprinkling  the  soap  and 
water  over  him  as  she  proceeded  with  the  scrub- 
bing. 

Then  he  sobered  down  and  said  in  a  quiet 
voice:  "Got  company  over  to  Madame  War- 
ing's." 

"Humph,"  said  Rose,  "I  didn't  know  dey  was 
expecting  company  at  dis  time  "zactly." 

"It's  a  young  man,  and  come  to  stay." 

"You,  Jule,"  throwing  the  scrubbing-brush, 
which  he  dodged  adroitly.  It  landed  in  the 
puddle  and  sent  the  drops  splashing  over  the 
clean  stones. 

"Why  couldn't  you  say  in  plain  English  dat 
Madame  Waring  got  her  son,  and  mighty  proud 
she  am,  too?"  And  she  relented,  and  laughed 
in  her  pleasure.  "I  must  find  out  if  Ma'm'selle 
hab  heard  dis."  She  picked  her  way  through 
the  debris  of  kettles  and  pans  and  hastened  to 
find  Annette. 


250  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"You  have  heard  the  news,  Rose;  I  see  it  in 
your  eyes,"  said  Annette.  "I  have  just  received 
a  message  from  Madame  Dubreil." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  LAST  CHANGE. 

"ANTOINE,"  said  Risden  anxiously,  "come 
quickly.  There  is  some  change  in  Monsieur. 
His  eyes  hab  been  roving  restlessly  about  de 
room  for  de  las'  hour." 

Risden  had  proved  in  this  long  illness  of  Mon- 
sieur Beauvais'  that  he  hatd  the  rare  faculty  of 
the  nurse,  hence  had  been  retained  in  the  sick- 
room, and  one  of  the  slaves  from  the  plantation 
had  been  brought  to  fill  his  place  about  the 
house.  Annette  was  sitting  by  the  side  of  the 
bed  when  Antoine  entered. 

"I  think  that  papa  wants  something,  Antoine. 
I  cannot  think  what  it  may  be.  What  is  it, 
papa?"  speaking  to  him  softly,  hoping  that  he 
might  recognize  her  in  some  way.  The  sunken 
eyes  were  still  for  a  moment,  then  began  their 
restless  search  about  the  room,  more  often  in 

the  direction  of  the  secretary.     The  Doctor  had 
251 


252  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

« 

hastily  been  summoned,  and  in  a  short  time 
Monsieur  St.  Gemme  tapped  lightly  upon  the 
door.  Antoine  arose  to  admit  him  into  the 
apartments.  "Papa  is  not  the  same,"  whispered 
Annette  as  Monsieur  St.  Gemme  stepped  to  her 
side. 

He  saw  that  the  last  change  was  approaching. 
"I  think  the  priest  would  better  be  sent  for,"  he 
said. 

Annette  turned  an  affrighted  look  upon  him. 
"Is  it  so  near?"  she  said  brokenly. 

"I  am  afraid  so,"  he  replied. 

"Risden,"  said  Antoine,  "go." 

The  latter  hurried  to  do  Antoine's  bidding. 
He  met  the  Doctor  at  the  door.  "You  are  going 
for  Father  Olivier?"  the  latter  said,  divining 
his  object. 

Risden  bowed  his  head  sadly. 

"Doctor,"  said  Annette,  "papa  seems  to  be 
searching  for  something." 

"What  can  it-  be?"  asked  the  physician. 
Suddenly  Antoine  crossed  over  to  the  secretary. 
He  had  an  indistinct  recollection  of  seeing  his 
father,  when  he,  Antoine,  was  but  a  little  child, 
take  something  out  of  a  drawer.  This,  whatever 
it  was,  the  Monsieur  had  just  as  carefully  re- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  253 

placed  and  locked  within  the  drawer.  Antoine 
opened  the  secretary,  and,  searching  for  the  key 
for  the  inner  drawer,  found  it,  and  soon  discov- 
ered the  miniature  of  a  beautiful  face,  his 
mother's  picture,  which  he  placed  reverently  in 
his  father's  hand. 

A  light  shot  across  the  countenance  of  the  sick 
man.  He  gazed  at  the  beautiful  features,  and 
turned  his  eyes  upward  to  heaven,  as  if  he  saw 
the  original. 

Father  Olivier  entered  bearing  the  holy  sacra- 
ment, which  he  administered  to  the  dying  man. 
The  tired  eyes  closed  wearily,  never  again  to 
open  on  this  world.  His  spirit  was  free  to  roam 
the  celestial  hills  with  the  bride  of  his  youth,  to 
whose  memory  he  had  been  so  faithful  all  these 
years. 

"It  is  all  over, "said  the  physician,  and  turned 
away. 

''Come,  Annette,"  said  Monsieur  St.  Gemme, 
leading  her  from  the  room.  Antoine 's  grief  was 
violent  and  demonstrative,  but  Annette's  silent, 
impassive  demeanor  alarmed  St.  Gernme. 

"Annette,"  he  cried,  "Annette,  you  frighten 
me!" 

She  turned  her  dull  eyes  toward  him.     "He 


354  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

was  all  I  had,"  she  said.  "It  was  hard  to  see 
him  go  without  one  word  for  his  children." 

"Annette,  your  father  has  been  lost  to  you  for 
many  months.  Is  not  the  release  better  for  him 
than  this  'death  in  life'?" 

"He  was  my  father,"  she  answered  in  the  same 
still  way,  and  to  Father  Olivier,  when  he  pro- 
nounced prayerful  benedictions  over  her  as  he 
was  leaving,  the  same  dull  glance  was  her  only 
response. 

"I  will  send  Josephine  and  Madame  Dubreil. 
They  will  know  best  what  to  do  for  her.  Women 
know  these  things  by  instinct,"  thought  St. 
Gemme.  "Poor  Monsieur  Beauvais,  I  had  not 
anticipated  that  such  would  be  his  end." 

St.  Gemme  had  felt  a  real  affection  for  Mon- 
sieur Beauvais,  and  this  had  deepened  as  he  saw 
that  the  elder  man  depended  upon  his  judgment 
to  such  a  degree. 

The  funeral  service  was  attended  by  a  large 
concourse  of  people.  The  assembly  was  doubt- 
less augmented  by  numbers  of  the  floating 
population,  attracted  by  the  peculiar  and  un- 
fortunate turn  of  affairs  in  the  family  history. 

The  remains  were  taken  to  the  consecrated 
ground  adjoining  the  Church  of  the  Immaculate 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  255 

Conception,  where  the  villagers  had  buried  their 
dead  these  hundred  years.  Col.  Menard  sup- 
ported the  orphan  daughter  of  his  old  friend. 
The  slender  young  creature,  in  black  attire,  and 
heavily  veiled,  shuddered  as  she  passed  through 
the  crowds,  sensitive  to  the  comments  on  such 
occasions.  Antoine  followed  with  Monsieur  St. 
Gemme,  Madame  Dubreil  with  Josephine,  and 
so  the  long  procession  was  formed  in  order. 

The  solemn  ritual  for  the  dead  fell  in  measured 
tones  from  the  lips  of  the  priest.  He  led  to  the 
grave,  followed  by  the  bearers.  The  entire 
assemblage  knelt  while  the  priest  concluded  the 
ceremony.  The  grave  was  sprinkled  with  holy 
water,  and  the  thud  of  the  clods  was  heard  as 
the  priest  pronounced  the  words,  "Earth  to 
earth."  Tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  villa- 
gers; sympathy  was  spontaneous  and  heart-felt 
in  those  days. 

A  few  intimate  friends  accompanied  the  brother 
and  sister  to  their  desolate  home.  Madame 
Dubreil  and  Josephine  were  of  the  number. 
Madame  Dubreil  took  Annette  in  charge.  When 
she  felt  the  hands  of  the  young  girl  they  were 
cold  as  ice. 

"Annette,  child,  you   are   chilled."     The  girl 


256  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

gave  her  a  strange  look.  "You  must  have  some 
warm  drink  at  once."  When  this  was  brought 
she  gave  it  to  Annette.  "Don't,  Annette,  don't 
look  so!"  cried  Madame  Dubreil,  taking  the  girl 
into  her  arms,  and  holding  her  tight. 

Annette  broke  into  a  wild  spell  of  weeping. 
She  sobbed  and  moaned  piteously.  Madame 
Dubreil  placed  her  upon  the  couch,  and  when 
the  first  bitter  agony  was  spent  the  bereaved 
girl  fell  into  a  deep  sleep  of  exhaustion. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  FLIGHT. 

IT  was  the  rich  relative  that  relieved  the  situa- 
tion at  New  Orleans.  She  had  never  fully  re- 
covered from  the  severe  illness  mentioned  by 
Leonie  to  Antoine  at  their  first  meeting.  Leonie 
still  continued  in  high  favor  and  made  frequent 
visits  to  this  relative. 

One  day  shortly  after  Antoine's  letter  had  been 
received,  Leonie  was  very  despondent.  "Has 
Antoine  become  indifferent  to  me?"  she  thought. 
"Were  his  excuses  sincere?  No,  I  will  believe 
in  him."  She  said  this  over  and  over  to  herself, 
as  if  to  sustain  her  waning  courage. 

Monsieur  Perrine  had  informed  her  that  very 
morning  of  the  nuptials  that  were  to  take  place 
on  her  approaching  birthday. 

"Come  now,  something  grieves  you,"  said  her 
relative.  "Has  the  bird  died,  or  has  Adele  been 
cross  with  you  in  her  tantrums,  as  she  seems  to 

think  is  her  privilege?" 

357 


258  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Leonie  shook  her  head. 

"What!  none  of  these  things?  Then  Senor 
de  Gonsalvo  is  fickle  and  has  neglected  you  at 
the  ball."  . 

"No,  cousine  Emilie..  Do  not  speak  of  him," 
said  Leonie  with  a  frown. 

"What,  not  hear  9f  the  Senor!  What  means 
all  this?  A  handsome  lover  and  grand,  and  his 
name  must  not  be  mentioned  to  you!  Fie,  fie 
upon  thee!" 

Leonie  burst  into  tears. 

"Leonie,  Leonie,  child.  Tell  me  what  is  in 
your  heart." 

"Cousine  Emilie,  what  shall  I  do?     My  uncle 

f 

is  determined  that  I  shall  marry  the  Senor,  and 
I  cannot,  I  cannot.  I  do  not  even  like  him." 

"I  do  not  like  him  myself,"  said  the  cousine. 
"But  this  is  all  new  to  me.  Come,  tell  me  more. 
Is  there  another  my  Leonie  prefers?" 

"Cousine"  said  Leonie,  blushing  and  looking 
down,  "when  you  were  so  ill,  one  night  as  Adele 
and  I  were  going  home  at  dusk,  I  slipped  and 
fell.  A  young  voyageur  caught  me  and  assisted 
me  to  rise." 

At  this  hint  of  romance,  the  cousine  rose  to  a 
sitting  posture  on  her  couch.  "Go  on,"  she  said, 
impatiently. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  259 

"The  next  day,  at  dinner,  you  may  judge  of 
my  surprise  to  meet  the  same  young  voyageur. 
He  and  Louis  Valle,  my  uncle's  nephew,  had 
come  from  a  far  distant  point  in  the  wilderness. 
I  had  often  heard  my  uncle  speak  of  these  rela- 
tives." 

"Never  mind  the  relatives,  but  tell  me  of  the 
young  stranger." 

"He  recognized  me  immediately,  as  I  did  him. 
I  saw  it  in  one  swift  glance  I  gave  to  him.  Then 
I  looked  down,  for  his  eyes  were  full  of  admira- 
tion. Afterwards,  in  the  garden,  he  referred  to 
the  previous  meeting." 

"Is  that  all  ?"  asked  the  cousine  in  disappointed 
tones. 

"No,  I  saw  him  frequently,  and  I  know  not 
how  it  happened,  but — but — " 

"But  you  two  fell  in  love  with  each  other. 
Ah,  that  is  a  breath  of  fresh  air  to  me.  What 
does  Monsieur  Perrine  say?" 

"He  would  not  listen  to  Antoine." 

"Antoine,  is  that  the  name  of  the  fascinating 
youth  ?" 

Leonie  looked  a  little  indignant  at  this  remark, 
but  merely  answered:  "Yes;  Antoine — Antoine 
Beauvais." 


260  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Ah,  I  knew  his  father.  I  cannot  be  mistaken. 
When  we  were  neighbors  in  St.'  Pierre  he  left 
there,  a  broken-hearted  man.  But  how  did  you 
know  of  the  interview  with  Monsieur  Perrine?" 

"Antoine  slipped  a  note  into  Adele's  hand  as 
he  was  leaving." 

"Ah,  young  love  laughs  at  bolts  and  bars,  so 
I've  heard,"  said  the  cousine,  smiling.  Then 
she  looked  grave  and  asked: 

"What  are  young  Beau vais'  prospects  in  life?" 

"I  heard  Louis  Valle  say  that  old  Monsieur 
Beauvais  had  large  wealth,  but  I  care  not  for 
that,"  she  said  naively.  "Senor  de  Gonsalvo 
also  has  money  and  lands." 

"Antoine  your  heart  prefers,  my  Leonie." 

A  burning  blush  was  the  answer. 

"They  shall  not  marry  you  to  the  Senor.  I 
have  it.  We  shall  outwit  them."  And  Madame 
laughed.  She  had  been  a  gay  society  belle,  and 
was  aroused  at  the  thought  of  possible  intrigue. 
"Leonie,  I  shall  carry  you  away  to  France  with 
me.  Mo-nsieur  Perrine  shall  understand  that  you 
have  relations  on  your  father's  as  well  as  your 
mother's  side." 

Leonie  gazed  upon  the  cousine  eagerly. 

"Yes,  my  child,  it  occurs  to  me  that  I  should 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  261 

make  that  long  promised  visit  to  my  tante. 
What  say  you  ?  Your  venerable  grandmere  will 
be  delighted  to  see  you." 

Leonie  appeared  frightened  at  this,  to  her, 
great  undertaking,  but  the  cousine  reassured 
her. 

"You  can  have  Adele  bring  a  few  things  in  a 
bag,  between  now  and  next  Wednesday,  for  the 
vessel  sails  on  that  day,  and  we  cannot  risk  a 
delay.  Adele  must  bring  you  to  say  adieu  to 
your  dear  cousine  Emilie;  you  will  accompany 
me  on  board  the  ship;  you  will  neglect  to  return. 
I'll  see  to  the  Capitaine.  I  will  care  for  you  and 
protect  you."  She  laughed  slyly. 

"But  my  uncle  Perrine?"  faltered  Leonie. 

"I  shall  invent  an  excuse  which  will  make  it 
necessary  for  him  to  go  to  the  plantation  on  that 
day.  We  must  get  him  up  the  river  and  away 
from  the  town." 

"That  will  be  very  ungrateful  to  Monsieur 
Perrine."  i 

Madame  d'Arblay  laughed  merrily. 

"But  he  will  not  mind  that.  He  does  not  bid 
me  Godspeed,  for  I  am  sadly  out  of  his  good 
graces.  Now,  Leonie,  it  is  either  this  or  stay 
and  marry  the  Spaniard.  It  is  you  who  must 
decide." 


262  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"That  I  will  never  do,"  she  said  with  sudden 
vehemence. 

"And,  Leonie,  ma  chere" — as  she  absently 
smoothed  the  folds  of  her  silken  wrapper,  a  ruffle 
of  filmy  lace  failing  over  her  delicate  hands 
(she  was  very  proud  of  her  patrician  hands), — 
"Tante  Perrine  must  invite  the  Senor  to  drive 
with  her  on  Wednesday."  She  smiled  wickedly. 
"Monsieur  Perrine  will  return;  tante  and  the 
Senor  will  greet  him,  Leonie  will  be  sent  for, 
but,  alas?  the  sweet  bird  will  have  flown." 

Madame  d'Arblay  drew  Leonie  nearer,  kissing 
lightly  the  eyes  where  the  drops  were  still  linger- 
ing on  the  lashes. 

Madame  did  carry  off  the  game  before  their 
very  eyes. 

"Leonie,"  she  said  when  they  were  fairly  out 
of  the  river,  "I  shall  write  from  France  that  your 
grandmere  wished  to  see  you,  and  that  is  true, 
for  who  would  not  wish  to  see  Leonie?" 

Madame  d'Arblay  sighed  as  she  thought  of  her 
own  loveless  match,  and  was  resolved  that 
Leonie  should  not  have  a  like  fate. 

When  they  arrived  at  St.  Pierre,  they  found 
Louis  Valle  a  guest  at  the  Chateau  de  Villiers. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

LETTERS. 

MY  DEAR  ANTOINE: 

"YouR  second  letter  has  just  reached  me,  and 
I  am  distressed  beyond  measure  at  the  situation 
in  which  you  are  placed.  I  can  only  deplore  my 
selfishness,  which  has  brought  this  cloud  upon 
you.  I  would  not  listen  to  Julie's  better  judg- 
ment, which  said,  'Wait  until  my  return.'  I 
would  not  wait,  for  I  thought  life  and  maidens' 
hearts  were  uncertain.  I  have  racked  my  brains 
to  find  a  way  out  of  this  dilemma.  Should  le 
grandpere  be  apprised  of  the  true  situation  just 
now,  he  would  be  more  implacable  than  ever,  by 
reason  of  this  terrible  result  to  you,  in  conse- 
quence of  what  he  would  call  my  rash  act. 

"Then,  my  Antoine,  my  most  faithful  friend, 
I  entreat  you  to  wait  only  a  short  time.  I  shall 
very  soon  be  at  liberty  to  return  home,  and  I 
will  at  once  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  le  grand- 
pere. If  he  cuts  me  off  it  must  be.  I  have  one 
letter  from  Julie  beside  me.  She  relates  her  dis- 
tress of  mind  during  the  time  of  your  accusation 
and  trial.  The  hermit  of  St.  Anne's  disappeared 
very  suddenly  the  next  week  after. our  marriage 

263 


264  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

was  performed.  She  knew  not  what  course  to 
pursue,  but  she  writes:  'I  went  to  the  trial  fully 
determined  in  my  own  mind,  if  the  result  was 
against  Antoine,  to  then  declare  the  reason  of 
his  silence  respecting  his  absence  from  the  village. 
No  harm  must  come  to  Antoine.' 

"I  have  news  for  you.  Leonie  is  here  at  the 
chateau.  Madame  d'Arblay,  a  cousin  of  Leonie's 
mother,  made  a  successful  coup  d'etat,  and 
brought  Leonie  away  with  her.  Madame 
d'Arblay  is  not  fond  of  Monsieur  Perrine.  He 
sneers  at  her  invalid  ideas,  and  Madame  will  not 
forgive  that.  Madame  and  I  have  won  the 
grandmere  over  to  our  side. 

"By  the  way,  Madame  is  a  very  graceful 
woman.  She  was  a  great  belle  in  her  youth, 
so  le  grandmere  says. 

"Adieu,  then,  until  I  see  you,  my  noble  friend. 

"I  am  faithfully  yours, 

"Louis  VALLE." 

This  letter  was  received  late  in  the  summer. 
Matters  were  unsettled  with  the  brother  and 
sister.  No  change  had  been  made,  but  Antoine 
was  restless,  as  Annette  could  plainly  see.  He 
took  this  letter  to  Annette  with  shining  eyes. 

She  read  it  and  then  said  abruptly:  "You  are 
going  ?" 

He  looked  grave  and  said:  "Not  without  you, 
Annette.  We  will  both  go." 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  265 

"No,  Antoine.  I  wish  not  to  cross  the  sea. 
If  you  go  it  must  be  alone,"  she  said  decidedly. 

"Shall  I  desert  you?" he  replied;  "do  you  sup- 
pose me  to  be  heartless?" 

"But  if  I  do  not  wish  to  go?"  she  answered. 

"What  is  in  your  heart?" 

This  was  always  the  form  of  asking  confidence. 

"Marie  tells  me  that  Monsieur  Waring  wishes 
to  lease  the  Beauvais  house.  She  wishes  me  to 
make  my  home  with  them,  but  I  would  not  have 
it  so.  I  have  thought  to  go  east  to  the  convent 
of  Our  Ladies  of  the  Visitation." 

"Annette,  not  that,"  Antoine  cried  in  surprised 
tones.  "You  have  not  weighed  the  matter  care- 
fully. You  would  not  forsake  the  world.  You 
do  not  know  it  yet.  A  home  and  an  honored 
husband  should  be  your  portion." 

"That  is  not  for  me,"  she  said  quietly,  her 
large  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  his. 

Antoine  did  not  speak.  This  was  a  new 
thought  to  him.  He  supposed  Annette's  resolve 
was  due  to  sorrow  for  their  father's  death,  and 
that  in  time  she  would  relinquish  the  idea.  His 
own  heart  just  then  was  full  of  a  sweet  hope. 
His  nature  was  naturally  buoyant,  and  he  began 
to  plan  a  future  whose  brightness  should  atone 


206  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

for  the  gloom  of  the  past.  He  saddened  only  at 
the  thought  that  his  father  would  not  be  with 
him  to  witness  this  joy. 

Antoine  replied  to  Louis'  letter,  saying  that 
he  would  join  him  at  St.  Pierre,  and  asking  Louis 
to  await  is  coming. 

"Our  home  is  desolate  since 

the  dear  father  is  gone.  Neither  Annette  nor  I 
care  to  remain  where  everything  reminds  us  of 
his  presence.  Annette  will  either  decide  to  ac- 
company me  to  France  or  go  to  the  sisters  at 
Georgetown.  Ma'm'selle  Somers  has  inclina- 
tion to  return  to  her  English  home  next  month. 
Annette  suggests  that  we  go  with  her  as  far  as 
our  course  is  in  the  same  direction. 

"Louis,  what  entanglements  we  weave  around 
each  other  when  we  strive  to  carry  out  our  indi- 
vidual designs!  Sometimes  I  think,  'Why  strive, 
why  almost  sell  our  souls  to  gain  the  thing  that 
is  in  our  heart,  that  desire  calls  for?  Eternity 
is  at  our  door,  this  life  is  naught,  sit  still  and 
wait  for  tlie  next. '  And  yet,  when  the  new 
blood  courses  through  our  veins,  we  simply  re- 
peat ourselves;  the  same  plans,  the  same  keen 
desires,  the  same  restless  seeking  absorb  us  from 
day  to  day.  Adieu,  dear  Louis. 

"ANTOINE  BEAUVAIS." 

Some  weeks  later  Antoine  and  Annette  were 
on  their  way  to  Vincennes,  where  they  would 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  '      267 

meet  one  of  the  five  daily  coaches  that  ran  on 
the  "National  Road."  The  Warings  had  taken 
possession  of  the  Beauvais  mansion  until  brother 
and  sister  might  wish  to  reclaim  it. 

"Marie,"  said  Annette,  "we  will  leave  Risden 
and  Rose  in  your  care.  You  will,  I  know,  be 
kind  to  them." 

Waring  and  Monsieur  St.  Gemme  were  to  look 
after  the  large  estate.  Antoine  never  troubled 
himself  about  business  matters.  Monsieur  Beau- 
vais had  not  trained  him  to  such  exertion.  "The 
Americans  that  had  lately  come  could  push  the 
enterprises  of  the  village  if  they  chose."  An- 
nette, of  course,  was  ignorant  in  respect  to  such 
things. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

LA  BELLE  FRANCE. 

"ANNETTE,  I  cannot  think  your  purpose  is 
fixed,"  Antoine  had  said  to  her.  "I  need  you 
now ;  come  with  me.  What  if —  "  He  could 
not  finish  the  sentence. 

"I  will  humor  him  for  the  present,"  Annette 
resolved. 

Antoine  believed  that,  if  Annette  would  travel, 
in  the  end  she  would  change  her  mind,  but  she 
said  to  herself:  "What  is  there  in  life  for  me 
but  to  devote  myself  to  the  church,  and  there  find 
a  refuge  from  this  unrest  in  my  soul?" 

When  they  arrived  at  St.  Pierre,  their  relatives 
received  them  as  if  they  had  been  denizens  of 
another  world.  France  and  St.  Pierre  were  real 
to  the  brother  and  sister,  but  to  their  friends  the 
wilderness  was  but  a  vague  conception. 

Louis  had  awaited  them  eagerly.  As  was  the 
fashion,  he  kissed  Antoine  on  either  cheek  and 
grasped  his  hands  as  if  never  to  release  them. 

268 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  369 

"Antoine,  thou  faithful  one,"  he  cried. 

"Never  mind,  Louis.  It  is  past  now.  Time 
will  set  all  right."  But  nevertheless  a  sad  look 
passed  over  his  face  at  the  recollection.  "But 
tell  me — Leonie?" 

"She  is  here." 

A  door  opened,  and  Leonie  stood  before  them. 
Louis  wisely  deemed  his  presence  unnecessary 
and  withdrew.  What  passed  at  that  interview 
may  be  inferred. 

Antoine  was  duly  presented  to  la  grand-mere, 
and  he  must  have  made  a  favorable  impression, 
for  early  the  next  spring,  when  the  air  was  bright 
with  sunshine,  and  the  flowers  were  in  bloorn, 
and  the  birds  singing,  the  nuptials  of  Antoine 
and  Leonie  took  place  in  the  same  chapel  where 
his  father  had  so  proudly  wed  a  young  bride. 

Annette  rejoiced  in  Antoine's  happiness,  and, 
though  both  he  and  Leonie  were  kind  and  lov- 
ing in  their  efforts  to  make  her  life  also  bright, 
she  could  not  feel  at  home  in  this  new  life.  She 
often  roamed  about  the  places  where  her 
mother's  girlhood  had  been  spent.  Monsieur 
Beauvais'  oft-told  description  had  made  every 
nook  familiar  to  her. 

As  time  passed  on,  there  were  many  suitors 


270  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

for  the  hand  of  the  "beautiful  Ma'm'selle  Beau- 
vais,  who  had  lived  where  the  Indians  were  her 
neighbors."  Antoine  wondered  at  her  indiffer- 
ence. It  was  contrary  to  established  custom. 
"Annette  should  marry  as  was  proper  for  all  girls 
to  do  in  France." 

Annette  wrote  to  Marie  in  one  of  the  occa- 
sional letters  that  passed  between  them: 

"I  knew  not  how  strongly  the  fibers  of  my 
heart  were  entwined  about  old  'Kaskia.  I  miss 
it  every  day.  I  do  not  seem  to  fit  in  with  the 
life  here.  I  miss  the  sound  of  our  old  bell  at 
home  calling  me  to  early  mass.  When  I  look 
out  of  my  window  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing, I  do  not  see  the  sun  peeping  over  the  old 
fort  on  Garrison  Hill,  his  beams  touching  the 
mists  arising  from  the  river,  and  changing  the 
gray  to  white,  the  patches  of  bluffs  showing  as 
islands  in  a  sea  of  foam.  I  miss  the  song  of  the 
voyageurs,  the  crooning  of  the  slaves  at  their 
labor.  I  miss  the  crack  of  the  rifle,  with  its 
resounding  echoes  among  the  hills,  when  the 
couriers  du  bois  are  chasing  their  game.  I  miss 
my  light-hearted  Marie,  and  how  sadly  I  miss 
the  dear  papa  and  the  old  home." 

Marie  did  not  hear  from  Annette  for  a  number 
of  months  after  this  letter  was  received.  A  re- 
port came  in  a  roundabout  way  through  some 
friends  who  had  been  in  Nouvelle  Orleans  that 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  271 

Annette  had  married  into  a  family  of  rank,  that 
her  husband  was  an  officer  in  the  French  army. 
This  was  generally  believed,  but  Marie  wondered 
at  Annette's  silence. 

Louis  Valle  had  a  stormy  interview  with 
la  grandpere.  The  old  gentleman  would  not 
listen  to  reason,  but  Louis  patiently  waited  until 
the  first  effect  had  subsided,  when  he  argued  that 
the  deed  was  done;  that  if  his  grandfather  pur- 
sued the  course  with  which  he  threatened  him, 
then  was  Antoine's  sacrifice  in  vain. 

"Louis,"  said  le  grandpere,  brokenly,  "I  had 
my  plans  for  you,  lad." 

"  I  know,  grandpere,  but  the  heart  dictates — " 

"Leave  me  now,"  said  le  grandpere. 

In  the  end  Louis  triumphed,  and  was  rein- 
stated in  favor. 

Madame  Dubreil  had  occasion  to  make  a 
second  trip  in  regard  to  her  estates.  She  de- 
cided to  dispose  of  them  and  invest  the  amount 
in  and  about  the  village.  She  brought  Annette 
back  with  her. 

"I  think,  child,"  she  said,  "the  sight  of  your 
old  home  is  what  you  need.  Come  with  me." 

When  again  they  found  themselves  in  dear  old 
'Kaskia,  Marie  met  them  with  the  word  that 


272  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

Josephine  had  been  taken  with  sudden  conges- 
tion, and  had  been  buried  the  previous  month. 
Monsieur  St.  Gemme  had  gone  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains  to  take  charge  of  Menard  &  Valle's 
business.  Henri  was  with  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
LAFAYETTE'S  VISIT. 

THE  village  was  all  excitement.  Every  one 
was  in  holiday  attire.  The  preparations  were 
completed  to  receive  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette 
in  the  best  style  that  the  village  afforded.  Gen. 
Edgar  would  entertain  him,  the  banquet  would 
be  held  at  the  old  tavern,  and  a  ball  at  night  in 
the  grand  stone  house  of  William  Morrison.  All 
the  finery  possessed  by  the  dames  and  young 
maids  would  be  brought  to  light. 

At  an  early  hour  the  streets  were  filled  with 
animated  groups.  Foot  travelers,  horsemen 
and  charettes  were  pouring  in  from  the  country 
far  and  near.  The  young  men  who  were  to  form 
the  guard  of  honor  were  dashing  back  and  forth 
on  prancing  horses.  Old  women  in  linsey, 
•with  blue  handkerchiefs  on  their  heads;  young 
ones  in  print  (then  a  luxury),  with  gay  Madras 
handkerchiefs  at  throat;  men  in  hunting  outfit  of 
dressed  deer-skin;  Indians  in  blankets — a  motley 
crowd. 

273 


274  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

As  the  guard  of  honor  made  another  dash, 
Marie  said: 

"See  young  Savinian  Delusiere  (St.  Vrain); 
does  he  not  look  fine  to-day,  Annette?" 

The  two  were  watching  the  passers-by. 

"Ah,  there  is  Col.  Menard;  his  silk  hat  has  an 
extra  brushing  for -the  occasion." 

"What  are  he"  and  Father  Olivier  discussing 
so  earnestly?" 

"I  don't  know," said  Annette,  absently.  "Per- 
haps who  will  sit  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Mar- 
quis at  the  banquet." 

"Ah,  there  comes  Monsieur  Waring,"  said 
Marie,  as  her  husband  galloped  by,  throwing  a 
kiss  to  the  two  at  the  window.  "Louis  Buyatte 
is  out.  I  should  think  it  a  geat  risk  at  his  age." 

"He  wishes  to  be  part  of  it  once  more,"  An- 
nette said.  "I  wonder  how  it  would  seem  to  be 
as  old  as  he." 

"See  Moqua  and  old  Francoise.  She  carries 
her  last  basket.  Is  she  going  to  give  it  to  Lafay- 
ette?" laughed  Marie.  "There  go  the  young  men 
again.  Ah,  they  are  now  at  Menard  &  Valle"s 
store.  No,  I  am  mistaken.  Col.  Menard  is 
giving  them  instructions  merely.  I  know  that 
they  are  impatient  to  be  off.  Gen.  Edgar  looks 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  275 

distingue  in  his  uniform.  Did  you  see  that  por- 
trait of  him  standing  by  the  side  of  his  white 
charger?" 

"Yes.  Look,  Marie,  they  are  sending  in  the 
cakes  for  the  banquet.  Madame  Godin  cannot 
be  excelled  in  her  pound-cake.  Poor  papa  used 
to  say  there  was  nothing  like  it  this  side  of 
France." 

"What  is  the  menu?" 

"Cold  turkey  and  chicken  for  Madame,  and 
roast  pig  for  Monsieur,  the  most  delicious  cakes 
that  can  be  made  by  the  'Kaskia  chef,  plates  of 
toothsome  nothings — I  cannot  tell  it  all,  Marie. 
French  coffee,  of  course." 

"We  will  go  later  and  have  a  glimpse  at  the 
tables." 

"Let  us  go  into  the  street." 

"Wait  a  little  moment."  Marie  must  again 
kiss  the  sleeping  enfant. 

Bright,  expectant  faces  were  on  every  corner. 
A  laugh,  a  bon  mot,  a  greeting  of  friends  and 
acquaintances.  Old  men  were  relating,  to  all  that 
would  listen,  incidents  of  the  war  of  '76 — Lafay- 
ette's bravery,  his  valor,  his  generosity,  his  kind- 
ness of  heart,  his  patriotism.  And  then  the  talk 
would  drift  to  the  more  recent  Indian  wars. 


276  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

Deeds  of  courageous  daring  or  of  successful 
strategy  in  dealing  with  the  red  man  were  told 
with  great  zest. 

The  arches  were  being  covered  with  roses.  One 
placed  opposite  to  the  gate  of  the  Maxwell  home 
was  especially  beautiful. 

"See,"  said  Madame  Odile,  holding  up  a  bou- 
tonniere.  "These  are  buds  of  the  Damask  rose- 
bush grown  from  a  slip  brought  from  France. 
They  are  for  the  Marquis." 

Marie  nodded  approvingly. 

"Foster  has  taken  a  large  basketful  of  roses  to 
the  banquet-room,"  Madame  Odile  continued. 
"There  is  to  be  a  rainbow  of  flowers  to  span 
the  table  at  which  the  Marquis  will  sit." 

"Are  the  laurel  wreaths  in  place  yet?"  asked 
Annette. 

"Yes,  the  decorations  are  about  completed." 

"Isn't  it  beautiful!  I  wish  a  marquis  would 
come  very  day  of  the  year  except  Sunday,"  said 
Marie  childishly. 

"Fie,  fie,"  said  Annette. 

"Let  us  watch  the  young  men  form."  And 
with  laughing  adieux  they  followed  the  crowd 
past  the  old  State-house.  The  narrow  streets 
were  jammed.  The  guard  of  honor  started  off 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  277 

in  grand  style  at  the  head  of  the  procession. 

"Come,"  said  Marie,  "a  peep  at  the  tables, 
and  then  home  to  prepare  for  the  reception." 

The  cheers  of  the  villagers  announced  the  ap- 
proach of  Lafayette  and  the  distinguished  people 
from  St.  Louis  and  other  places,  as  well  as  the 
leading  citizens  of  old  'Kaskia.  There  was  an 
equally  excited  crowd  awaiting  the  arrival,  and 
strewing  roses  before  the  approaching  guest. 
Gen.  Edgar's  mansion,  the  resort  of  the  fashion- 
able society  of  the  country,  was  thrown  open  to 
the  company. 

Gov.  Coles  delivered  the  address  of  welcome 
on  behalf  of  the  people  of  Illinois.  The  Marquis 
responded  in  a  most  feeling  manner. 

The  crowd  made  way  for  a  group  of  veterans, 
some  of  whom  Lafayette  recognized  as  having 
fought  under  him  at  Brandywine  and  Yorktown. 
This  was  a  most  affecting  scene.  The  scars  of 
hard-fought  battles  called  out  the  involuntary 
respect  of  the  spectators. 

Lafayette  gazed  on  them  with  pride  and  affec- 
tion beaming  in  his  eyes.  Were  not  they  the 
champions  of  the  cause  he  loved  so  well?  He 
himself  was  slightly  lame  from  a  wound  in  the 
same  service. 


278  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"Is  he  not  grand?"  whispered  Marie.  They 
had  taken  position  at  an  angle  of  the  gallery. 
"See  the  color  of  his  coat — maroon — and  gold 
lace  trimmings." 

"Hush,  Marie,"  said  Annette. 

After  the  ceremonies  the  spirits  of  the  people 
began  to  lighten.  The  formalities  had  been 
properly  observed,  and  now  the  festivities  were 
to  open.  The  banquet  was  ready,  and  Lafay- 
ette was  escorted  to  the  place  of  honor  at  the 
rainbow  table.  The  large  room  of  the  tavern 
was  a  bower.  Col.  Menard  sat  at  the  Marquis' 
right  hand,  and  Father  Olivier  at  the  left. 
Grace  was  said,  the  covers  lifted,  and  the  feast 
was  before  them.  Hearts  were  happy,  tongues 
were  unloosed,  and  time  was  forgotten.  Then 
followed  the  toasts. 

Gov.  Coles,  bowing  to  the  Marquis,  said 
earnestly,  "The  inmates  of  La  Grange,  let  them 
not  be  uneasy.  Though  their  father  is  one 
thousand  miles  in  the  interior  of  America,  he  is 
yet  in  the  midst  of  his  affectionate  children." 

Lafayette's  son,  George  Washington  Lafay- 
ette: "The  grateful  confidence  of  my  father's 
children  and  grandchildren  in  the  kindness  of  his 
American  family  toward  him." 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  279 

The    Marquis    offered    the    following    toast: 
"Kaskaskia  and  Illinois — may  their  joint  pros- 
perity more  and  more  evince   the  blessings  of 
congenial  industry  and  freedom." 

Gov.  Bond's  toast:  "Gen.  Lafayette — may 
he  live  to  see  that  liberty  established  in  his  na- 
tive country  which  he  helped  to  establish  in  his 
adopted  country." 

"Sir,"  said  Lafayette,  "in  reference  to  the 
latter  part  of  your  toast,  I  must  drink  that  stand- 
ing." 

This  sentiment  met  with  sympathetic  applause 
on  the  part  of  the  listeners. 

But  the  great  ball  at  William  Morrison's.  The 
servants  were  running  hither  and  thither,  putting 
finishing  touches  to  rooms  already  beautiful.  The 
dancing  was  to  be  in  the  large  upper  apartment, 
and  refreshments  were  to  be  served  on  the  lower 
floor.  An  elegant  collation  was  served  on  this 
very  eventful  occasion.  Foster  was  on  hand, 
and  many  a  hint  was  volunteered  by  her  as  to 
"how  dey  did  at  Nouvelle  Orleans  at  de  Jackson 
banquet."  This  made  the  other  servants  stare. 
The  matrons  came  early  in  order  to  see  the  ar- 
rivals. 

"Ah,  here  comes  Madame  Rozier.     How  ele- 


280  OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS 

gant    she   is   in   the   new  costume,"   said    one. 

"Ah,  I  must  speak  with  Monsieur  Le  Brun. 
Here  is  an  opportunity  to  inquire  after  my  cousin 
in  St.  Louis, "said  another. 

"Ah,"  said  Madame  La  Chappelle,  "there  is 
Delusiere  with  Virginia  Menard,  the  Colonel's 
niece,"  as  the  young  guard  passed  with  a  small 
dark-haired  girl  on  his  arm.  "No  handsomer 
couple  will  be  here  to-night." 

"They  are  all  beautiful,  beautiful, "said Madame 
Derousse.  "Come,  Annette  and  Marie,  come, 
that  I  may  tell  you  how  lovely  you  both  are." 

Marie  smiled  saucily,  but  Annette  was  indif- 
ferent. ^She  was  dressed  in  a  rich  brocade  that 
had  been  her  mother's — wine  background  with 
masses  of  flowers  over  it.  Some  pearls  were 
woven  in  the  coils  of  her  magnificent  hair;  a 
brooch  that  was  an  heirloom  fastened  the  lace 
of  her  bodice.  Her  large  eyes  were  aglow,  and 
a  slight  flush  upon  the  creamy  skin.  The  pulses 
of  a  rich,  warm  life  were  running  in  her  veins. 
An  occasion  of  this  kind  seemed  to  fill  out  the 
measure  of  her  being. 

"The  party  from  Col.  Menard's  are  soon  to 
arrive.  Gen.  and  Mrs.  Edgar  are  here,  and 
they  are  expecting  the  others  to  arrive  every 
moment,"  said  Waring. 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  281 

"Ah,  here  they  come." 

Lafayette  was  with  Col.  Menard  and  Madame. 
They  were  accompanied  by  the  Choteaus,  the 
Gratiots,  the  Valles  and  others  of  the  visitors. 
They  formed  a  group  about  William  Morrison 
and  his  family.  Madame  Odile  Maxwell  and 
her  sister,  Alzire  Menard,  were  in  this  group. 

"See,"  the  whispers  passed  around  the  room, 
"the  Marquis  is  going  to  open  the  ball  with  Alzire 
Menard." 

As  he  led  forth  the  young  girl,  who  was  a 
noted  belle,  a  murmur  of  admiration  was  heard. 
Alzire  wore  a  beautiful  new  gown  of  peach-blos- 
som silk  that  had  been  made  expressly  for  the 
ball. 

Other  couples  wheeled  into  line,  and  the 
graceful  movements  of  the  ladies  and  the  stately 
dignity  of  their  escorts  made  an  impression  never 
to  be  forgotten.  In  fact  the  ball  at  William  Mor- 
rison's, "when  Lafayette  was  here,"  was  a  favor- 
ite topic  with  the  villagers  long  afterwards,  when 
not  a  stone  was  left  to  mark  the  spot  where 
stood  the  spacious  mansion. 

"Who  is  that  handsome  Ma'm'selle  sitting  by 
Madame  Dubreil?"  asked  George  Kenerly,  a 
desirable  parti  from  St.  Louis. 


2S2  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"That  is  Annette  Beauvais.  A  sad  history 
connected  with  her,  but  she  bore  it  nobly." 

"I  should  like  to  be  presented." 

Kenerly  asked  Ma'm'selle  for  the  honor  of 
the  next  dance.  This  happened  to  be  the  "Co- 
quette," a  favorite  movement  with  the  Kaskas- 
kians.  Alzire  Menard  was  led  out  into  the  same 
set.  It  was  rumored  that  Alzire  was  a  greater 
attraction  than  the  Marquis  in  bringing  Kenerly 
to  'Kaskia  at  this  time.  Delusiere  and  Virginia 
Menard  made  another  couple. 

"A  galaxy  of  stars,"  exclaimed  Monsieur  Jar- 
rot,  one  of  the  honored  guests.  "Who  is  the 
stately  Ma'm'selle  with  Kenerly?" 

"Old  Monsieur  Beauvais'  daughter,  you  un- 
derstand." 

"Ah,  yes.  Her  brother  is  in  France,  you 
say?" 

"Yes,  for  some  years." 

"Where  does  Ma'm'selle  Beauvais  make  her 
home  these  days?" 

"With  Marie — Madame  Waring.  They  were 
friends  from  childhood." 

"What  became  of  the  property?  There  was 
a  large  fortune,  was  there  not?" 

"Antoine  has  the  estate,  but   Annette  is  well 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  283 

provided  for  in  the  way  of  investments  that  are 
becoming  more  valuable  as  the  country  advances. 
She  will  probably  return  to  France,  so  I  hear." 

"But  what  is  the  stir  about  the  Marquis?" 
And  the  two  keen  traders  leave  off  their  business 
speculation  and  hasten  to  the  scene  of  interest. 

"Marquis,  there  is  an  Indian  woman,  Sciakape, 
who  insists  upon  seeing  you,  and  will  not  be  put 
off." 

"What  is  her  desire?" 

"She  has  a  paper  that  she  wishes  to  show." 

"We  must  inquire  into  the  matter." 

"Will  the  great  white  father  look  at  Sciakape 
and  have  patience  with  her?" 

"What  is  it,  my  child?" 

The  daughter  of  a  chief,  Paneiciowa,  of  the 
Six  Nations,  stood  before  him. 

"My  father,  a  great  chief,  the  white  father  a 
great  chief,  my  father  say,  and  he  fight  and  make 
war  too,  and  my  father  fight,  see."  And  she 
handed  him  a  paper,  soiled  and  worn,  in  Lafay- 
ette's own  writing.  "This  he  gave  me  when  he 
died.  I  am  to  keep  it  always,  never  let  go." 

"Yes.  I  gave  this  to  your  father  for  his  valor. 
He  was  a  great  chief,  a  brave  warrior." 

Sciakape  looked  pleased  at  this. 


384  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

"I  hear  a  great  way  off  that  you  were  the 
white  chief.  I  start  at  this  first  light,  when  the 
stars  go  back  in  the  sky.  Some  of  my  people 
come  too.  We  ride  far." 

Lafayette  was  touched  at  this — the  memory  of 
himself  hidden  away  all  these  years  in  the  heart 
of  the  red  man  and  made  sacred  to  his  child  and 
to  his  people.  With  appropriate  words  and  gifts, 
he  praised  Sciakape  for  so  carefully  treasuring 
this  testimony  of  her  father.  When  he  returned 
to  the  gay  scene,  his  heart  was  full  of  emotion 
at  this  new  proof  of  the  affection  felt  for  him  in 
this  great  America  that  he  had  helped  to  per- 
petuate. 

At  midnight  Lafayette  and  his  suite  were  es- 
corted to  the  landing,  but  the  dancers  did  not 
disperse  until  morning. 

"Marie,"  said  Annette,  "Gen.  Lafayette  has 
come  and  gone  and  our  'to-morrow  of  anticipa- 
tion' is  a  thing  of  the  past." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

IL  PARAIT. 

FOR  months  the  talk  of  the  village  was  upon 
Lafayette's  visit,  the  ball,  the  banquet,  the 
strangers  who  had  come  to  celebrate  the  occa- 
sion. That  he  had  come  eight  hundred  miles 
out  of  his  way  to  do  honor  to  old  'Kaskia  was 
a  matter  of  pride  with  them.  If  perchance  a 
single  individual  could  be  found  who,  for  some 
reason,  had  not  been  present,  what  an  oppor- 
tunity for  minute  description  of  each  and  every 
detail;  and  what  bitter  pangs  of  regret  assailed 
the  absentees  when  the  festivities  were  men- 
tioned. 

It  was  late  in  the  summer  when  Waring  an- 
nounced that  word  had  been  received  fom  St. 
Gemme,  and  that  he  would  arrive  in  October. 
Marie  was  voluble  jri  her  expressions  of  joy  that 
his  life  had  been  preserved  during  the  two  years 
he  had  been  with  the  wild  Indians  qf  the  Rockies. 

Annette  was  silent.     The  name  brought  back 
285 


280  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

the  past  vividly — the  time  of  trouble  and  great 
sorrow,  when  he  had  been  so  closely  connected 
with  the  interests  of  her  life.  Would  he  have 
changed  in  these  years?  What  was  she  expect- 
ing? She  started  and  scorned  herself  for  the 
thought.  How  utterly  baseless  were  such  con- 
jectures. He  had  always  been  kind  to  her,  but 
that  was  his  nature,  to  be  considerate  of  others. 

Marie  each  day  had  some  new  anecdote  to 
relate  of  the  children,  their  growth — it  was 
marvelous.  And  the  husband,  Edgar  Waring, 
there  rrrust  be  this  and  that  done  for  his  comfort 
and  well-being. 

"Marie,  who  would  have  thought  you  would 
become  so  domestic — the  giddy  creature  that  you 
were  before  you  met  Monsieur,  your  husband?" 

Marie  gazed  earnestly  at  Annette.  Her  figure 
had  still  its  old  grace,  but'  the  sparkle  in  her  eyes 
was  more  subdued.  "I  am  very  happy,  Annette. 
My  life  is  full  of  the  joy  of  my  home  and  my 
family.  I  wish,  Annette,  the  same  joys  were 
yours." 

An  unspeakable  depth  of  pain  was  in  the  dark 
eyes  that  Annette  turned  to  Marie.  "Don't, 
Marie.  My  path  has  led  me  by  these  things." 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  same  day  that  An- 


OLD  'KASK1A  DAYS  287 

nette  was  irresistibly  led  to  seek  her  father's 
grave.  The  conversation  with  Marie  had  aroused 
a  melancholy  train  of  memories.  The  old-time 
longing  and  reaching-out  for  something  that  her 
nature  claimed,  which  had  been  denied,  was 
again  upon  her. 

The  sun  had  set  in  a  glow  of  crimson  and  gold, 
a  purple  haze  covering  the  hills  on  the  east  side 
of  the  river.  But  the  radiance  had  departed, 
and  a  gray  mist  began  to  settle  over  the  valley. 
Annette  was  leaning  against  the  slab  that  marked 
her  father's  grave.  "Ah,  papa, "she  murmured, 
"I  understand  the  great  solitude  that  was  in 
your  heart  those  long  years.  An  utter  loneliness 
of  spirit  into  which  neither  the  world  nor  thy 
children  could  enter.  I  am  a  woman  now  and 
I  know  the  desolation." 

A  figure  had  stolen  around  the  corner  of  the 
old  church,  and  for  a  few  seconds  was  motionless. 
It  was  Monsieur  St.  Gemme.  He  knelt  by  the 
side  of  the  girl,  unconscious  of  his  presence,  and 
drew  her  closely  to  his  side. 

"Annette,  God  is  good;  he  has  permitted  me 
once  more  to  gaze  on  thy  dear  face." 

She  remained  silent. 

"Annette,  is  all  my  love  and  devotion  in  vain? 


288  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

God  knows  how  sorely  my  heart  cries  out  for  you 
— how  the  thought  of  this  moment  has  borne 
me  up  when  else  I  would  have  perished  under 
privation  and  suffering.  Again  and  again  has  it 
nerved  me  to  make  one  more  effort  to  reach  you. 
Tell  me  the  truth,  Annette." 

"Monsieur,  I  cannot  remember  the  time  when 
I  have  not  loved  and  trusted  you.  Your  image 
has  filled  my  heart  when  it  was  a  sin  to  think  of 
you.  I  even  thought  to  take  the  veil  that  I 
might  overcome  and  conquer — " 

"The  lonely  heart  shall  have  rest,"  he  mur- 
mured, and  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  in  ecstasy. 
Crossing  himself,  he  said:  "As  God  in  Heaven 
hears  me,  may  I  ever  be  true  and  faithful  to 
Annette,  daughter  of  my  loved  and  honored 
friend,  the  Monsieur  Beauvais  St.  Pierre." 

They  rose  to  their  feet  and  with  hushed  voices 
left  the  consecrated  ground.  On  the  way  home 
he  told  her  how  he  had  lost  the  trail,  and  of  his 
capture  by  hostile  Indians,  who  had  subjected 
him  and  his  companions  to  cruel  tortures.  He  and 
others  had  succeeded  in  making  their  escape. 
It  would  have  been  sure  death  to  remain  in  the 
Indian  village.  Another  prisoner  was  a  Dela- 
ware Indian  to  whom  St.  Gemme  had  by  acci- 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  289 

dent  rendered  a  favor.  This  Indian  sickened 
and  died,  but  he  gave  to  St.  Gemme  an  old  belt 
and  leather  wallet  on  the  inside  of  which  was 
stamped  in  ink,  "C.  LeFevre,"  and  confessed  to 
having  murdered  a  pale-face  not  far  from  the 
village  of  Kaskaskia. 

"Annette,"  said  St.  Gemme,  showing  them  to 
her,  "this  forever  exonerates  Antoine  from  a 
shadow  of  doubt." 

A  light  was  in  her  face  as  she  listened. 

"Antoine,  brother,"  she  exclaimed,  "that  you 
could  know,  even  as  I  do  hear,  this  strange 
tale!" 

St.  Gemme  and  Annette  were  quietly  married 
at  the  mansion  the  following  month.  "In  great 
sorrow  or  in  great  happiness  I  can  bear  only 
my  nearest  to  be  with  me,"  said  Annette. 

The  Warings  built  a  home  on  the  banks  of 
the  river,  and  Annette  was  again  established  in 
the  "Beauvais  Mansion,"  with  the  familiar  faces 
of  Risden  and  Rose  about  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE  FLOOD  OF  '44. 

TWENTY  years  have  roiled  away — years  in 
which  the  villagers  have  feasted  and  fasted,  have 
married  and  departed  this  life,  as  they  had  been 
doing  for  a  century  or  more.  The  American 
population  had  rapidly  increased  during  this  time. 
Settlements  to  the  east  and  to  the  south  were 
dividing  the  attention,  but  still  old  'Kaskia  con- 
tained the  wealth  and  fashion  of  this  section. 
Edgar  Waring  was  a  leading  man  in  politics. 
He  had  grown  wealthy  by  judicious  business  in- 
vestments. Marie  was  always  the  same  bright 
creature.  Annette's  powers  had  ripened  with 
the  years.  As  Col.  Menard  predicted,  she  was 
"a  queen  among  women."  The  happiness  of 
which  she  had  dreamed  when  a  girl  had  been 
hers.  She  had  found  the  meaning  in  life,  through 
the  channel  of  a  complete  and  absorbing  devo- 
tion to  her  husband.  The  refined  intelligence 
of  Monsieur  St.  Gemme,  his  delicate  tact,  his  far- 
?90 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  291 

reaching  knowledge  of  men  and  affairs,  his  varied 
experience  gained  by  traversing  large  tracts 
of  country  in  early  life,  in  contact  both  with  the 
civilized  and  the  savage,  gave  him  a  charm  and 
fascination  of  character  that  gratified  her  pride. 
Their  home  was  the  resort  of  all  the  intelligence 
and  culture  that  the  West  then  afforded.  Edu- 
cation had  made  an  advance  in  these  years. 
Several  sisters  from  Georgetown  had  established 
a  convent  in  the  building  celebrated  by  the  ban- 
quet to  Lafayette.  But  Col.  Menard,  with  his 
accustomed  liberality,  had  out  of  his  princely 
fortune  built  a  handsome  four-story  brick 
structure  known  as  the  Convent  of  "Our  Lady 
of  the  Visitation." 

Annette's  youngest  daughter,  a  fairy-like  little 
creature,  is  to  be  one  of  the  May  queens  at  the 
coming  exhibitions  in  May.  Sister  Ellen  and 
Sister  Josephine  are  training  the  girls  for  the  im- 
portant event. 

But  the  rains  are  frequent  this  spring.  The 
March  rise  is  unprecedented.  In  April  the  water 
threatens  the  village.  But  the  people  are  con- 
cerned for  another  reason.  Old  Col.  Menard, 
whom  every  one  loves,  is  failing,  is  ill.  "Has 
he  not  helped  all  when  in  distress?  Does  he  not 


292  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

keep  half  the  people?  No  one  applies  for  help 
and  is  refused." 

Still  the  water  is  coming  up  slowly. 

"Monsieur,  I  think  the  little  Angelique"  (named 
for  the  Colonel's  wife)  should  be  brought  home." 

"Ah,  not  yet,  Annette.  There  is  time,"  said 
Monsieur  St.  Gemme. 

The  water  is  in  the  streets. 

"Monsieur,  I  shall  send  for  the  little  Ange- 
lique." 

"Y«s,  now,  if  you  wish." 

Rose  is  sent  to  the  convent. 

Rose  is  old,  but  no  older  than  in  the  time  of 
Monsieur  Beauvais. 

Angelique  will  not  go  with  Rose. 

"What,  Rose,  would  mamma  wish  me  to  miss 
being  the  May  queen  ?  Tell  her  I  love  her,  but 
I  shall  have  to  stay."  And  she  cried  so  that 
Sister  Ellen  would  not  force  her. 

Rose  is  sent  three  times  for  the  small  Ange- 
lique, who  finally  is  carried  off  on  Rose's  back, 
screaming  down  the  street. 

"The  Madame  say  I  bring  you  dis  time  sure," 
said  Rose. 

The  waters  are  rising  faster.  The  great  June 
rise  is  here.  The  water  is  up  to  the  sills;  a 


OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS  303 

few  more  inches,  and  then  in  the  door.  The 
houses  nearest  the  river  are  deserted. 

"I  say  we  are  going  to  have  Noah's  flood," 
said  old  Madame  Latulippe.  "The  people  are 
wicked,  and  they  play  and  dissipate.  They  will 
not  listen  to  Father  St.  Cyr  when  he  reproves 
them.  We  shall  all  perish,  all  perish."  And 
she  rocked  back  and  forth. 

"No,  no,"  said  Basyl  Taumur. 

"I  say  it.  Father  St.  Cyr  was  seen  on  the 
top  of  Garrison  Hill,  standing  by  the  old  fort 
with  his  hands  spread  out  toward  old  'Kaskia, 
and  he  cursed  us  with  this  great  flood.  Toinette 
said  it.  We  all  shall  perish — shall  perish." 

The  word  is  passed  around  that  Col.  Menard 
is  lying  very  low.  "Col.  Menard  is  dead."  The 
whole  village  mourn  as  one  family,  when,  on  the 
9th  of  June,  the  remains  are  brought  to  the 
village  for  burial. 

The  ferry  passes  from  the  door  of  his  mansion 
to  the  Kaskaskia  Hotel,  over  the  sea  of  water. 
Father  Donatien  St.  Cyr  and  his  choristers, 
as  a  mark  of  especial  honor,  meet  the  bier  at 
this  place,  from  whence  the  large  assemblage  of 
people  follow  to  the  church  for  the  last  solemn 
service. 


294  OLD  'KASKIA  DAYS 

The  water  is  still  rising;  the  people  have  fled 
to  the  bluffs  on  the  east  side.  The  water  is  every- 
where, even  back  to  the  hills,  where  stands  the 
old  mill. 

The  steamer  Indiana  is  taking  the  nuns  out  of 
the  second  story.  Many  of  the  villagers  boarded 
that  boat  to  never  again  return  to  'Kaskia. 
Among  the  number  were  Edgar  Waring  and 
Marie.  Monsieur  St.  Gemme  and  Annette  are 
on  the  brow  of  the  bluff,  gazing  upon  the  wild 
waste  beneath  them. 

Annette  is  leaning  against  the  old  tree  at 
whose  base  she  had  sat  long  years  ago.  The 
same  far-away  look  is  in  her  eyes. 

"What  is  it,  my  wife,  my  beloved?  What  do 
you  see?" 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  luminous  face. 
"France  and  my  brother  Antoine." 

"So  it  shall  be,  Annette." 

Hand  in  hand  they  walk  down  the  precipitous 
path.  The  years  ever  bring  these  two  natures 
into  truer  unison. 

When  the  waters  subside,  there  are  entire 
streets  upon  which  are  left  only  the  tall  chimneys 
to  mark  the  place  where  homes  had  once  existed. 
A  new  era  has  set  in — one  of  decay,  and  a  gradual 
disappearance  of  the  villagers. 


OLD  'K'ASKIA  DAYS  395 

Never   again  will  be  the   glory  of  the  "Old 
'Kaskia  Days." 


THE  END. 


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